


Neither Timid Nor Tame

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: Softly and Tenderly, We Begin (Hackle Summer Trope Challenge) [9]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Porn With Lots Of Feelings, Slow Burn, finally these damn lesbians are useful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Ada and Hecate learn that they are true complements, in all things.Story 9/8 (aka bonus smut) of Hackle Summer Trope Challenge Series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You have all been the absolute best. Thank you to everyone who stayed with this story for so long. You let me drive this crazy train like I stole it, and I'm immensely grateful for all your support and patience.  
> One last story for these two idiots in love, shall we?

Hecate Hardbroom closed the door to her chambers with a heavy sigh, taking a moment to rest her head against the wood, hand moving to lightly brace herself against the frame.

Circe was safe, and healing. Everyone was safe—Dimity, Pippa, Ada, herself. After defeating Asteria Allbright and two other members of Agatha’s coven, they’d flown back to Cackle’s, to begin the process of repairing themselves, both mentally and physically.

Asteria had not been kind to Circe during her captivity. Hecate’s blood still boiled as she recalled the bruises on her baby sister’s body, the cracked ribs and bruised throat, the jaw so swollen that Circe had trouble speaking clearly. Her one regret was that she hadn’t made Asteria suffer nearly enough before Circe had taken her life, using her green magic to pull the farmhouse down around Asteria and her coven sisters, crushing them to death as the earth opened to take them in.

It was an ugly thought, dark and hateful. But Hecate felt no shame in it. That woman would have gladly killed them all, would have taken the time to ensure they all suffered unspeakable torment and terror before they died—Asteria had pledged her fealty to Agatha Cackle, a woman who would willingly murder children ( _her girls_ ), all to win some petty points against her sister. Her sister who was all the things Agatha and her kind could never be, whose goodness had saved so many, a hundred times over.

_Ada_. That was Hecate’s strongest thought, her deepest wish in that moment. Once they’d arrived at Cackle’s, she’d taken Ada’s hand and led her back inside, back home. But the sweet softness of the moment had been quickly replaced with practical matters. The staff had awakened at their arrival and, justifiably, wanted answers. And Circe and Hecate both had needed further healing. So Ada held an informal staff meeting, while Dimity and Pippa helped the Hardbroom sisters back to Hecate’s chambers.

Dimity had easily popped into Hecate’s store room to gather the necessary potions (and when she’d reappeared, hands full of potions and yet somehow without triggering Hecate’s alarm spell, Hecate had merely arched her brow, silently declaring that they most certainly would discuss this interesting little development, _very soon_ ). Hecate had taken a rejuvenating potion before setting to work on Circe, who’d refused any kind of healing until Hecate was able to do it herself.

Hecate understood Circe’s reasoning—she’d wanted Hecate’s magic, wanted the familiar comfort of being nurtured by her elder sister, the closest thing to a real mother she’d ever had. Once Circe’s physical wounds were gone, Hecate had given her a sleeping draught, which Circe gratefully accepted. She then handed out rejuvenating potions and sleeping draughts to Pippa and Dimity as well, silently dismissing them from the room with small, grateful smiles.

She wasn’t a hugger, but Dimity and Pippa both had wrapped her in tight embraces, squeezing out their relief and gratitude into her limbs. And while she understood the impulse, those weren’t the arms she’d wanted to be in.

The protection spell she whispered around the door sapped more energy from her already-exhausted muscles. Yes, her rejuvenation potion had helped greatly, but there was only so much that could be cured from a bottle—she needed to rest, to truly rest. Her battle against Asteria had left her drained, and what little energy she’d regained from taking the potion was almost completely funneled into healing Circe.

But it wasn’t just about a loss of magical energy. Stress and fear had wrought havoc on her body for days now, and she desperately needed peace and quiet. She needed mundanity, routine, predictability.

She needed to be with Ada. Needed the steadying calmness of her presence, the reassurance that she was alright, that they were alright, that the world was back on its axis again because they were back where they were meant to be, in every sense.

Ada would still be awake, she instinctively knew. Still, she reached out with her magic, easily finding Ada in her office.

She didn’t transfer to the headmistress’ door, opting to walk the distance instead. She dipped her head and took slow, deep breaths as she moved through corridors so familiar that she could navigate them backwards and blindfolded. She felt the subtle strength of the castle’s magic, slowly re-fusing with her own, rebuilding her strength. Yes, here was magic. Good magic, strong magic, the magic of a millennia, _Ada’s_ magic, welcoming her home.

She lightly reached out, letting her fingertips trail along the stones, smiling softly at the slight warmth that rose up to greet her.

_So many stories you could tell_ , she thought fondly. What would these walls say, long after she and Ada were gone? Would they remember the little love story that played out across thousands of days, the years of hopeless longing and hidden hearts?

Those days were gone, she reminded herself with a deepening smile.

Oh, she was so very tired. And so very happy.

* * *

 

Ada paced the space behind her desk, worrying Hecate’s timepiece between her fingers. She’d forgotten to give it back, after the fight. There had been so many things happening, anxiety and adrenaline rushing away to a new set of problems, a new set of wonderful firsts.

Hecate had said _I love you_. And Ada had said it back. It was silly, how giddy the thought had made her—after all, it wasn’t exactly a surprise declaration. Still, she couldn’t stop the bubbly happiness that spread through her veins, like a young girl in the blush of first love all over again.

Truth be told, she didn’t _want_ to stop this feeling. Goddess above, they’d _earned_ it, earned every right to this love and all its simple joys. Hadn’t they paid enough, given enough, pined enough for this? Hadn’t they been tested and tried and found pure, found good, found true?

Ada slipped into her desk chair, shaking her head at her own thoughts. She sounded a bit like Hecate, trying to apply merit to things that did not need it. Still, it was true. They’d waited and wanted and worked for this, and they deserved every ounce of joy it brought.

She glanced at the clock across the room again, forgetting that she held a watch in her hands. The impromptu staff meeting had ended half an hour ago; everyone else was probably tucked back into their beds, drifting to sleep in blissful relief.

There had been questions, most of which Ada had answered. She'd kept the details sparse though—all anyone needed to know was that Agatha’s coven had attempted to release her, yet again, and that they’d been unsuccessful. She’d assured everyone that they were safe (damn her mind for silently adding _for now_ ), and had promised to give them a more detailed update in the near future.

She needed to confer with the rest of the rescue party before officially commenting on the matter. Pippa Pentangle hadn’t exactly welcomed the idea of not reporting it to the Great Wizard, but they all knew Hecate would fight tooth and nail to ensure Circe wasn’t blamed for the deaths of those witches. They would talk about it in the morning, once everyone had rested.

A small knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she opened it with a wave of her hand. Hecate quietly entered, dark eyes seeming larger than usual as she took in the sight of Ada.

“How is she?” Ada rose to her feet, but she didn’t move closer.

“Resting,” Hecate’s hand delicately traced her hairline, a sure sign of how frazzled and fatigued she was. She gently closed the door behind her. “She’ll make a speedy recovery, thankfully.”

“And how are you?” Ada asked quietly, blue eyes taking in her every move with clinical concern.

“Exhausted,” Hecate admitted. The word seemed to come from the soles of her feet, all the way through her body. She’d cleaned her face and tidied her hair—instinctively, Ada knew that was for her benefit. Hecate had attempted to look like her usual self, so that Ada wouldn’t worry. Ada knew this, because she’d done the exact same thing. She’d even changed her clothes, donned the sort of dress and sweater she would wear for a relaxed weekend around the castle, as if trying to further remove the memory of where they’d been and what they’d done.

With a slight smile, Ada motioned toward the two wingback chairs in her office. “Tea?”

Now her deputy gave a small smirk. “I think we’re well beyond the aid of tea, Miss Cackle.”

“Blasphemy upon the Great British Empire, Hecate Hardbroom, I shall not hear it.” Ada feigned outrage, knowing it would draw another smile from the woman. She was duly rewarded and felt a small measure of satisfaction in it.

Hecate’s hands moved to instinctively clutch her timepiece, faltering when they came up empty.

“Ah,” Ada gave a small smile (goodness, how many times she’d witnessed this scene—Hecate standing in her office, absentmindedly playing with her necklace as they discussed any range of topics, a gesture now as intrinsic to Hecate as her personality, in Ada’s mind). “I believe I have something of yours.”

Ada gently lifted the chain from her neck and over her head, finally crossing the space between them. She felt another measure of their true life clicking back into place as she returned the timepiece to its rightful owner.

Hecate’s eyelashes fluttered as she dipped her head slightly, letting Ada put it on her. Ada was so distracted by the pretty picture that she wasn’t really paying attention to anything else. The backs of her hands lightly brushed down the front of Hecate’s dress, ghosting over the tops of her breasts.

It was Hecate’s slight intake of breath that made Ada blush as she realized what she’d done. Hecate’s eyes were wide open now, waiting for some kind of sign from Ada.

“Sorry,” Ada uttered the word before she had time to think. She immediately realized that she wasn’t quite that sorry, not when Hecate twittered like that, not when it elicited such sweet, soft sounds.

“Don’t be,” Hecate’s voice was low and gentle. She offered a smile when Ada looked up again, knowing and warm. Then she easily moved to safer ground, tenderly cupping the timepiece in her hands. “Thank you, for taking such good care of it. It was a gift from a dear friend.”

Ada beamed at the memory. The gift had actually been a bit of a bitchy move on her part, given to Hecate during her installment as deputy—a pointed way to remind the woman of the importance of punctuality. Before that, Miss Hardbroom often had a habit of becoming entirely engrossed in work or research, missing meals or arriving late to staff meetings.

She’d never been late since. Looking at it through a new lens, Ada realized that, too, had been a sign of Hecate’s loyalty, her friendship to Ada—Ada had pointed out a behavior that bothered her, and Hecate had tried her best never to repeat it again. Proof that she’d listened, that she did care, that she never wanted to take advantage of Ada’s kindness, that she always wanted to be worthy of Ada’s friendship and love and trust.

Which was why Ada knew that she needed to be the one who took care of Hecate, in this moment. Because her deputy would follow whatever lead she began, would do anything she asked, because she had more power over the situation, and a responsibility to use it wisely.

Hecate needed to rest. The day had been emotionally and physically exhausting. She needed time and space to herself to process everything, to decide how and when she moved forward into this new territory with Ada.

 So Ada moved back towards her desk, gently suggesting, “Perhaps it’s best if we all—”

“I don’t,” Hecate spoke abruptly, taking a sudden step forward and then stopping herself just as quickly. Ada turned back to her in confusion, and Hecate gave a slight shake of her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment, “I don’t want to leave you, just yet. I want…I want to stay, with you….”

She trailed off, glancing away, as if embarrassed. Ada's stomach gave a little flip as she tried to anticipate her next words.

Hecate gave a half turn, crossing her arms over her chest as she clarified, “I don’t have any expectations—”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Ada drawled, unable to stop herself.

Hecate blushed, but when she looked back at Ada, her eyes were dancing with delight. Her lips curled into a smirk, “My lack of expectation was in reference solely to tonight.”

“I know.” Ada returned. She took a moment to watch the realization sink in, Hecate’s eyes widening a fraction of an inch. For a second, she thought maybe she’d been too forward, but Hecate took a few timid steps in her direction, curious and cautious. Ada returned to her, drawn like a magnet to the woman who still had her arms wrapped around herself so tightly that it looked as if she might snap under the pressure. She stopped short of physically taking Hecate into her arms, instead reaching out to lightly place her hands on Hecate’s shoulders, feeling a measure of relief in seeing them loosen slightly in response.

She wanted to assure Hecate that she was only joking, that she had no other expectation for this night other than ensuring that Hecate was soothed back into a calmer state, that some attempt at re-establishing a sense of normalcy and peace was made. But she looked into those eyes and found herself lost. Hecate was still in her traveling boots, so much closer to Ada in height now, and she was so close, so kissable, so brave and beautiful and utterly herself in that moment that Ada couldn’t think of anything else.

Hecate watched the shifts in Ada’s expression, and her own fingers tightened in response, nails digging into her upper arms as she willed herself not to throw herself at this woman, not to devour her whole with gratitude and longing.

But her logic won, as usual. Along with her desire to always place Ada’s wants and needs and well-being above her own.

“I just—I never want you to look back and think we moved too quickly.” Hecate spoke quietly, her face filled with concern. Tumbling into each other’s arms after a traumatic experience seemed like something fueled by adrenaline and a primal need to give thanks for life, not a deep and conscious decision that had been so long in the making, not the kind of commitment that Ada deserved.

Ada couldn’t help but smile. “And I don’t want you to, either. But it has taken us twenty years to get this far, so I doubt anyone could ever accuse us of moving too quickly.”

The last part was a joke, but Hecate remained serious. “I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, Ada. I care about _you_. I…I want you to know, to truly know, beyond all doubt, that every step we take—everything I do, I do it because I have thought about it, I have made a conscious decision to take that step. I’m here because I want to be, more than anything else.”

With trembling lips, she forced her eyes to remain locked on Ada’s as she added, “I’m here because I want _you_ , more than anything else.”

If Ada Cackle had any last defense against resisting this woman and her honest charms, it was destroyed completely in that moment. Hecate still watched her so cautiously, as if she didn’t quite expect Ada to accept her words, as if she still feared what might happen next. Ada wanted nothing more than to reassure her that her feelings were requited, that her love was ecstatically accepted and returned with equal force.

But Hecate didn’t need a whirlwind in this moment. She needed a shelter.

“I know that, dearest,” she confessed, lightly squeezing her grip on Hecate’s arms to emphasize her words. Her tone was soft as she quietly asked, “But what do you want _right now_?”

Hecate truly considered the question, her brows knitting in concentration as she tried to process every emotion flitting through her veins. She thought of what she always wanted, what she sought every evening, even in the days before they'd moved into something more. But how did one ask for that? How did one ask for serenity and solace and simply Ada?

She thought of the night before. Sleeping in Ada’s arms, feeling grounded and shielded and truly safe.

“Would you just…hold me?”

Ada melted into a smile, immediately wrapping Hecate into her arms. “Absolutely.”

Hecate gave a small sigh of relief at how quickly Ada acted—without hesitation, without disappointment, without confusion or unwillingness. Her chin easily fit into the crook of Ada’s shoulders, face burrowing into the softness of her sweater, lungs gratefully filling the with scent of her perfume. Ada’s hands were soothing, traveling up and down her spine with gentle reassurance. Hecate released a tension in her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

Ada felt the ease slipping through Hecate’s body, and she closed her eyes in a soft and silent moment of gratitude. Yes, this was exactly what Hecate needed—grounding, comforting, _holding_.

But they certainly couldn’t stand here all night—and Ada certainly wasn’t going to end this until Hecate decided to, until Hecate had all that she needed to feel safe and herself again. Ada pulled back slightly, still keeping her arms firmly around her deputy. She glanced around her office, not particularly pleased with what she saw. The space, while warm and cozy, wasn’t exactly designed for cuddling. She didn’t want to move too quickly, to make it seem like she was pushing for something more by suggesting another location. After a few beats of thoughtful silence, all with Hecate watching her in curious fascination, she settled upon a compromise.

This current situation was the bare minimum, which wasn’t what Hecate deserved. Ada smiled as she thought of the ways Hecate had turned the simplest of things into romantic gestures, how she’d made Ada feel loved beyond compare, a shining star in the center of a bubbled little universe that housed only them. She remembered Hecate’s tears, the night of the Samhain ceremony—how confused and elated Hecate had been, at being given a gift, at being made special. She remembered the picnic on the beach, and how painstakingly Hecate had turned an ordinary gray day into a memory of glowing warmth. Then there was the potions lab, literally turned into its own universe through swirling clouds and twinkling stars. Hecate spun the mundane into gold, made every little thing a grand gesture, all for love, all through love, all with love. Ada could do the same.

With a wiggle of her fingers, the fire in the fireplace settled to a slightly smaller blaze, and a pallet of blankets and overstuffed pillows appeared before it, a little nest in the midst of oak and accolade and book. With a small smile, she recalled her Yuletide gift from Hecate, which still waited in the potions lab, forgotten in the hysteria of Circe’s kidnapping. She flicked her wrist, calling the phonograph to her office and setting a new record upon it, a softer, slower melody that had always been one of Hecate’s favorites.

“Come,” she gently took Hecate’s hand, offering her a reassuring smile. “We’ll stay here as long as you like.”

Wide-eyed, Hecate let herself be led across the room. It was a simple gesture, but still so infused with love, still so whisperingly romantic—she didn’t know how to receive it. It was different, when she was the one making these gestures for Ada. Now the tables were turned and she felt completely flummoxed.

Ada sat down, propping some pillows against the side of her usual chair for support as she leaned back, legs extended and ankles crossed. She looked up at Hecate, still standing, and gently patted her thigh. “Come rest, love.”

_Love_. The endearment and its adoration-soaked tenderness made Hecate’s throat clench. She found herself stuttering, “Ada, Ada, you don’t—it’s not necessary—”

“Hecate.” Ada’s quiet voice stopped her protests. “If you don’t want something, then please say so. You deserve whatever you want, and you deserve to refuse whatever you don’t.”

“I…I do want…” Hecate was blushing again, hands twisting together helplessly. Her face contorted in concern as she sank to her knees, hand coming out to rest on Ada’s shoulder, “But you've been through just as much. And it’s not—”

“Hecate, my dear, I love you, I do—but you are entirely incapable of acknowledging just how much you risk and endure for the sake of others.” Ada was still smiling, lessening the blow of her words. Her amusement softened as she added, “Will you, for once, let me simply take care of you?”

She saw the slight narrowing of Hecate’s eyes, the desire to comply warring with her nature of self-denial.

“But…this is too much, Ada,” she whispered, looking around at the softness surrounding them, the fire and its dancing light, the phonograph shining in the corner as it played. “I don’t need all this. I just need—I need you, and your presence. That’s all.”

The confession filled Ada’s heart with love and adoration all over again. “For the rest of the night, let’s leave the idea of necessity at the door. I want to do these things for you, Hecate—not because you deserve them, although you certainly do, but because I love you. And I need you to accept this, because I plan on loving you for quite a long time, and I have absolutely no intention of foregoing romantic displays.”

She waited for Hecate to fully take in her words, smiling at the wonder that she saw shining back at her.

For all the ways that Hecate had considered and dissected this new facet of their relationship, she had not included this factor. Of course, she’d always wanted to show Ada how much she cared, to sweep her away with grand gestures and silly romantic things—but she hadn’t considered that Ada would want to return the favor. She realized that this was part of the grand love story Ada deserved, too. To be both the lover and the beloved, giver and receiver. Still, she gave one last futile attempt at resistance, her chivalrous nature not quite content at the thought of Ada taxing herself on her behalf, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” Ada vowed. Then she tilted her head slightly, blue eyes twinkling as she smiled at her deputy, “Now. Would you like to lay down?”

“Yes,” Hecate breathed a sigh of relief as she sank further into the pallet, turning so that she faced the fire, resting the left side of her face on Ada’s upper thigh. Ada’s left hand came up to gently stroke the top of her head, her right hand repeating the motion on Hecate’s upper arm, rhythmic and grounding and innocent.

Hecate closed her eyes, feeling the hot prick of tears behind her lids. Goddess, she could crumble right now, fall to pieces under Ada’s hands, happily dissolve into nothingness under the weight of the love she felt right now—the love she felt radiating from Ada, the love she felt inside her own chest pulsing back in response.

“It’s alright to cry, you know,” Ada seemed to read her thoughts. “It has been a very long day.”

“The longest of days,” Hecate agreed, still keeping her eyes closed. “But I'm not—these are tears of relief.”

“Of course they are.”

Silence fell after that. Ada continued her movements and Hecate kept her eyes closed as she gratefully accepted them. After a few beats, Ada felt a flutter just below her knee—it took her a moment to realize that Hecate’s fingertips were lightly playing with the hem of her skirt. It was ridiculous, how it made her beam with joy, but she didn’t care. The warmth on her skin wasn’t from the fire, but from sheer happiness. Even this little moment, this small thing, seemed monumental, so impossible just a few short months ago.

 With a look around the room, Ada lowered the lights—Hecate had become so still and had been quiet for so long, she thought the woman had drifted asleep.

But then her deputy spoke, clearing her throat slightly. “Would you—would you let down my hair?”

A perfectly innocent request, but for Ada it seemed obscene. Hecate had no idea the kind of fantasies that hair inspired, no idea what it did to any sane witch's brain.

“Of course,” she prided herself on how nonchalant she sounded, how unaffected. She fingers trembled slightly as they searched for the first pin. Once she realized how the bun was held in place, the others were easily found, easily slipped away and transferred into a neat little pile on her desk. The smell of smoke and earth, mixed with ginger and citrus, invaded Ada’s senses as the carefully constructed chignon gave way. She parted the three rivers of the braid, running her fingers through the rest, gently checking for any pins she might have missed, relishing the smooth silkiness between her fingers.

Hecate gave a small sigh, and Ada felt a moment of chagrin—she was taking advantage of the situation, taking it further than Hecate had requested. She stopped and quietly whispered, “There. All done.”

“That was…lovely. Would you mind?” Hecate raised her hand to make a vague motion towards her hair again.

This time, Ada didn’t even dare responding verbally. Instead she merely returned her hands to the motions they were begging to perform anyways, running through those dark locks, gently tugging and outlining the scalp beneath.

Hecate sighed again, deeply and blissfully. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one giving thanks,” Ada admitted quietly. She kept her voice gentle, hoping Hecate understood that she still had no expectations. “I’ve dreamt of doing this for ages, it seems.”

“Have you?” The younger woman’s voice was curious and amused. Her hand rested on Ada’s knee, brushing against her skin with playful prompting. “What other dreams have you had of me, Miss Cackle?”

“Mainly soft ones. Mundane, little things,” Ada admitted. “Moments like this. Moments when I could simply…be with you. Honestly.”

A warm hum sounded in response. Hecate understood what she meant— _be with you honestly, be with you in the way I truly wanted to be with you, without hiding my affections, without fear, without anything but the pure joy of being with you._

Ada was being so open with her, so honest and vulnerable. Even this, this small confession that seemed to lose its danger now that all feelings were revealed, still took such courage. And Hecate loved her for it, wanted to give something in return, to show that her bravery was noticed and appreciated, to possess some of that courage, too, to be worthy of such a woman.

So she pushed herself to speak, “I had dreams, too. But none compared to this. I don’t think…I don’t think I've ever felt so… _cherished_.”

Her voice faltered into a whisper on that last word, trilling with emotion. It was true, but still such a hard thing to admit. But she would crack herself open, would pull back the layers for Ada, again and again. This was part of the work, too. Part of the building, the strengthening. She would learn vulnerability, would learn to accept Ada’s affections, would learn to voice her approval for those affections, would learn anything and everything if it brought her closer to the woman currently caressing her, closer to something more, something stronger, something unbreakable.

Ada’s hands were traveling, fingertips tracing the shell of Hecate’s ear as she quietly confessed, “You are cherished, my dear. I would very much like to devote my life to trying to make you see just how loved you are.”

Now Hecate rolled onto her back, readjusting her body so that her face looked up directly into Ada’s. She swallowed, hard, and then spoke, forcing a nonchalance into her tone that she certainly didn’t feel, “What a coincidence. I was thinking the very same thing about you.”

Ada was grinning like a fool, she knew, but she couldn’t stop beaming even if she’d tried. “Well, we've always made a great team.”

“Yes, yes we have,” Hecate was smiling now, too, bright and open like the sun. She was utterly beautiful in that moment, and Ada told her so. Told her with her fingertips which reverently traced the outline of her face, told her with eyes full of adoration, told her with words:

“You really are a wonder, Hecate Hardbroom.”

This wasn’t the first time that Ada had uttered that phrase, and Hecate’s reaction was much like the first—heat and liquid limbs and a desire that could truly be acted upon, this time. She sat up slowly, mesmerized by Ada’s reaction to her gaze, keenly aware of every shift, every flutter, ever shallow shaking breath. Ada was trembling, and Hecate suddenly, truly understood. _I make her do that, she loves me this much, wants me so much._

And she suddenly understood that Ada felt the same as she did in this moment—eager and terrified, wanting everything and unwilling to ask for anything more than what would be freely given, still afraid of pushing against some uncrossable line.

_Save her_ , her inner white knight cried. For this was something she understood, an impulse she could easily act upon. _Save her from fear, save her from doubt, save her from everything except the feeling of being so deeply loved and adored—make her feel as wonderful as you do right now._

So she sat up fully, moving so that her hip was against Ada's outer thigh as they faced each other, leaning in to gently remove Ada’s glasses, magically guiding them back to her desk. She let her fingertips map Ada’s face, brushing over lips that she now knew were so soft and inviting, rediscovering every dimple, every line.

Hecate was holding her breath, as if she were so overcome by what she saw that she’d simply forgotten everything else, even the things that required no conscious thought at all. Ada was suspended between agony and rapture, wanting more and yet completely overwhelmed.

And then Hecate kissed her. A kiss that was first small and chaste, deepening, melting, muting into more as Hecate’s tongue tentatively pushed past her lips, slowly re-exploring, sending out banners of heat through Ada's body. This was different from all the kisses that came before—not that they’d shared that many before, but this was the first one that was not built of fear, or worry, or a need to prove love before it was too late, or even gratitude for surviving. This was simply born of love, transformed into desire.

For the first time, Ada truly understood the concept of giving oneself to a lover. Because Hecate conquered, Hecate invaded her bloodstream and possessed every thought in her brain, Hecate took the breath from her lungs and commanded the pounding of her heart. And Ada gave it all freely, wanted to give more, wanted every inch claimed in the name of this woman and her love. Oh yes, there had been other lovers, other loves, but never this desire for ownership, this need to so wholeheartedly surrender.

And with it came the equally-strong desire to invoke the same reaction in Hecate, to receive the same gift of body and breath and belonging. She wanted Hecate to be as desperate for more as she was, wanted her to feel afire and completely consumed, wanted Hecate to _want_ to be consumed.

Her hands were reaching, wrapping around Hecate’s waist, pulling her closer. The younger woman made a fluttering sound when Ada’s hands first made contact, small and needy and delighted, and Ada’s head spun again.

This simply wouldn’t do, Hecate realized. She was still seated next to Ada, leaning forward and slightly to the side, the odd angle sending warning strains across the muscles of her back. She broke from the kiss, gathering the folds of her thankfully-loose skirt to straddle Ada's outstretched legs, putting herself directly in front of her target.

“Oh.” It wasn’t until she’d fully settled into Ada’s lap and felt the warmth of Ada’s thighs beneath her own that her brain caught up and realized how intimate this position was. She cast a worried glance at Ada, “Is this—”

“Perfect,” Ada decreed, answering the unfinished question. Now her hands were cupping Hecate’s face, pulling her into another languorous kiss. Hecate’s hands were lost, fluttering on Ada’s shoulders like birds, uncertain of where to land. Her fingers moved on instinct, playing with the lapels of Ada’s collar, thumbs moving in slow circles, committing the feel of the fabric to memory. Growing braver, her palms turned inward, gently pushing against the flesh beneath the dress, moving further down. She stopped herself from going anywhere too improper—yes, she was fairly certain that Ada would welcome the contact, but she was not entirely sure her own brain wouldn’t completely pass out. This was territory that she hadn’t even allowed herself to dream about, things she’d told herself she could never imagine, much less actually do.

Ada felt the warmth of Hecate’s palms seeping through her dress, felt the woman’s fingers stiffen, nails lightly pressing into her skin, hesitating, pulling back. Her mind flashed to just two nights ago (oh, how it seemed forever ago now!), after they’d shared their second dance, when the girls had interrupted their almost kiss—Hecate had growled in frustration, and Ada had thrilled at the sound. She remembered the feeling on Hecate’s teeth, just that afternoon, gently holding her bottom lip, power and passion held at bay.

She had two simultaneous revelations: Hecate was an extremely well-mannered wolf, but still a wolf. That wildness was still underneath, still pacing in Hecate’s bloodstream, still wanting to break free.

And oh, how she wanted to free it.

“I won’t break, Hecate,” she murmured, leaving the kiss to pepper smaller kisses along the woman’s jawline.

Hecate hummed in amusement. But she obviously wasn’t getting the message, because her hands stayed so tame, so far from what Ada wanted. She fought back a smile. Some things would never change—Hecate’s obliviousness being one of them, evidently. Her hands moved to cover Hecate’s, making sure the woman’s eyes met her own before she quietly said, “Touch me the way you _truly_ want to.”

Those dark eyes widened, then filled with curiosity. Hecate’s nails slowly applied pressure to Ada’s flesh, hands sliding further downward, pressing harder. She watched Ada’s face with rapt attention, searching for any signs of distress or discomfort.

Hecate the researcher had arrived, Ada realized, and her entire body flushed at the thought. It wasn’t the first time she’d considered how Hecate’s diligence in all things would translate in a more intimate setting, and now that the reality of such a fantasy was here, she understood that no amount of imagining could ever had prepared her. She was going to be devastated, in the best of ways.

Hecate pressed further, the room so silent that she could actually hear the small growl of her nails rippling down the fabric of Ada’s dress. She kept her focus locked on Ada’s face, taking in the way her eyelashes fluttered, the press of her lips and the twitch of a smile at their corner. She felt Ada shifting, leaning in, wanting more.

_Oh, Ada_. The woman truly had no idea how she wrecked Hecate with her beauty, her openness, her hunger that only intensified Hecate’s own in response.

Her hands slipped downward, cupping Ada’s breasts and pressing upwards again, nails slowly sinking into the soft flesh. Her palms were singing with joy at the weight and the fullness, her lungs releasing a relieved breath of _oh, finally_.

She was still watching Ada’s reaction, but there was no need to ascertain if she liked it—because Ada’s hands retaliated, grabbing Hecate’s hips and pulling her forward, an action that sent sparks shooting across Hecate’s skin. She became hyper-aware of every sensation: the smooth fabric of Ada’s skirt against the bare skin of her thighs, the warm weight of Ada’s hands on her hips, the brush of Ada’s breath against her skin, the softness of Ada’s body beneath her hands. Hecate ducked her head slightly, overcome by it all, only to have Ada’s mouth recapture her own, filled with an insistency that she gladly returned.

Hecate’s brain registered the sensation of waves crashing against the rocks as their tongues and teeth collided again. Ada’s moan reverberated in her own mouth and her entire body shivered in response. This was too much and not enough—her thumbs came out to play, easily finding the peaks of Ada’s nipples through the fabric, teasing and stroking, and Ada’s small sounds in response nearly shattered the rest of Hecate’s senses entirely.

No, it was most definitely not enough, Hecate decided. Ada’s hands were still resting on her hips, weighted and controlled, and Hecate suddenly realized that she wanted Ada to feel as she did—shaking and needy and completely out of control, every nerve ending absolutely aflame with desperation and desire. Right now, the blonde was far too calm for Hecate’s liking.

_I won’t break, Hecate_. That had been an assurance, but maybe it was also a challenge. Hecate had been told to touch Ada the way she truly wanted to touch her, and so far, Ada had responded enthusiastically to her advances.

_Just…go a bit further_ , her inner voice prompted. She could pull back, if Ada seemed uncomfortable—but she wouldn’t know the limit if she didn’t test it.

She sat back slightly, allowing herself a better view of Ada’s features (so lovely and flushed, so close to exactly where Hecate wanted her to be) as she tweaked Ada’s nipples hard between her fingers, her own body humming at Ada’s surprised gasp. Heat rippled through her thighs at the sight of those blue eyes, wide with shock.

Still, she gently asked, “Not too much?”

“More,” Ada whispered, right hand moving up to slip around Hecate’s neck, pulling that wonderful mouth back to hers. Her fingers were already completely tangled in Hecate’s hair, pressing harder, bringing Hecate closer. She’d never really been one for roughness, but there was something thrilling in pushing her straight-laced (in every sense of the word) deputy right over the edge. She wanted to _feel_ Hecate, to feel her strength and her desire and her vitality, to know that it was real and that this was really happening. She wanted to _know_ that they were here and alive, after all the fear and uncertainty of the past few days.

She could feel Hecate smiling against her mouth as her hands resumed their movements, fingers spreading out to grasp her breasts again, nails biting into sensitive flesh with welcome sharpness. Oh, there would be marks, in the morning—Ada felt a trill of delight at the realization.

Hecate’s lips were moving, kissing the corner of her mouth, the curve of her jaw, finally settling on her pulse point with fluttering gentleness. That gentle touch deepened as Hecate sucked at the skin—Ada felt the first graze of teeth and her eyes stuttered closed. The second bite was harder, followed by the steady pressure of her tongue, and Ada moaned as heat flooded between her legs.

Ada’s throat was vibrating beneath her lips and Hecate had to close her eyes to steady herself. Oh, it was too much, wonderfully too much. They were still fully clothed and already Hecate could already feel the tension coiling in her hips, heavy and electric like a building thunderhead—had she ever been so easily affected by any other woman?

She knew the answer—no other woman had been Ada, had contained twenty years’ worth of knowing, had been the object of Hecate’s affection for at least half that time. And no other woman had known her quite so deeply—no other woman had made Hecate want to go deeper, to continue through every layer until there was nothing left.

_Speaking of layers_. Hecate smirked to herself as she sat back slightly. However, her amusement evaporated when she looked up at Ada again. Ada was disheveled, gloriously awry—lips red from Hecate’s mouth, cheeks flushed, hair out of place. Slightly breathless and still smiling in absolute joy.

It was, as always, the smile that undid her. She’d never understood how Ada could genuinely smile at her that way, with such open joy and admiration (she’d certainly never done anything to earn such a wonderful gift). Seeing that same smile in an entirely different context only added to the warmth rippling through her veins. Ada’s approval had always meant a great deal to her—Ada’s approval in this particular matter meant even more.

Ada found it charming that despite the small displays of ferocity that Hecate had exhibited not moments ago, she still blushed as her hands moved to the buttons of Ada’s dress, quietly asking, “May I?”

_How does she do that?_ Ada wondered. _How does she turn the most courteous and innocent of questions into absolute seduction in the most adorably awkward of ways?_

However, she merely replied with, “Oh, please do.”

Hecate bit her bottom lip, hands shaking slightly as she unfastened the small silver buttons of Ada’s dress. Inch by inch, more skin came into view. And _oh, freckles_. Of course Ada had freckles, of course she knew that. But it wasn’t something she’d really allowed herself to consider—what the rest of Ada’s body looked like, beneath the dresses and jumpers. She felt a small smile of adoration spread across her face. Oh, this woman was truly wonderful, in every way.

Ada had never much bothered with having hang-ups over her body—she liked how she looked, she liked what her body could do, and she’d never received complaint in that department, when it came to her past lovers, so why worry? But now, for the briefest of flashes, she did worry—because this was _Hecate_ , this was the opinion she placed above all others, the love she wanted before any other. However, one glance at her deputy’s glowing grin and her fears quickly vanished. Hecate’s eyes were dancing like a kid opening a long-awaited present on Christmas morning, and Ada reminded herself that they’d watched each other’s bodies shift and change with time for years now, even if from afar.

Hecate only unfastened the first five buttons—that was enough to gain access to her intended target. Despite Ada’s assurances, Hecate still wanted to move slowly. Not out of hesitancy or a lack of desire, but rather because Ada still very much deserved to be seduced, to be worshipped, to be given a delicious build-up that fully expressed just how much Hecate wanted her. She’d used her words, earlier, to express this desire to prove that every step forward was a deliberate and conscious one—now she’d use her mouth to express it in a more direct way.

First, she let her hands slip beneath the dress, ghosting over Ada’s skin as she pushed the fabric away, revealing more flesh, more delightful little freckles. She let her nails drag across, only slightly, only enough to make Ada shiver in response. Even with her lip still caught between her teeth, she was grinning like an absolute sap, but she couldn’t help herself. _Freckles_. How delicate, how perfectly Ada. She gently pulled away more fabric, her pulse humming as lace came into view.

Ada’s bra was a fragile thing, all mesh and lace that left very little to the imagination—she could easily map out the dusky borders of Ada’s nipples against the paleness of her breasts, taut and begging for her attentions again. Hecate’s head swam with questions. Ada had changed since they’d returned, had she chosen this specifically for Hecate to see? Had she actually been serious earlier, when she’d joked about having expectations for tonight? Did she simply dress like this always, beneath the soft dresses and unassumingly adorable sweaters?

Hecate was staring at Ada’s chest with an endearing intensity, as if working out a riddle. The blonde couldn’t help but tease, “See something you like?”

“Oh,” Hecate breathed, her face still seriously somber as she dipped forward to place a kiss at the top of Ada’s sternum. She was pushing her lower body back, sliding down Ada’s legs to grant herself a better angle. Her words slipped over Ada’s skin, hot and hushed with reverence. “ _Like_ is not the proper word for it.”

Ada had to slip her hands into Hecate’s hair again—she needed an anchor, a point of reference as she spun under the intensity the younger woman’s focus. Hecate’s mouth moved lowed, placing deep, lingering kisses inch by inch, staying judiciously in the valley between Ada’s breasts. She moved lower still, lightly pulling at the lace between the cups with her teeth as her nose nuzzled the warm skin above it. She felt Ada’s chest shifting beneath her, tried to school her own breathing to match, tried to keep her pace as her senses swam in a heady cocktail of the scent of Ada’s perfume and the taste of Ada’s skin and the sound of Ada’s breathing and the tightening weight of Ada’s hands in her hair. _Ada, Ada, Ada,_ she was completely consumed by the woman, as usual—of course, why should this be any different than any other aspect of their life?

Still, she forced herself to remain steady, to keep as much control as she could. A small part of her insisted that this was the best way, because it gave Ada multiple chances to stop, to pull back, to decide if this wasn’t what she wanted. But Hecate was giving that voice less and less volume—Ada was here, Ada wanted her, Ada _loved_ her, Ada wanted to be loved _by her_.

Which meant Hecate’s slower pace was down to an entirely different reason, if she were being honest. She was a woman with something to prove ( _I can be worth the wait, we were worth the wait, just hold on, love, and I’ll send you to the moon_ ), and a lifetime of self-deprivation to steel her for the task ahead.

Ada’s fingers curled tighter, lightly tugging at Hecate’s hair, and she couldn’t help but grin. Even when Ada’s requests were nonverbal, she found them nearly impossible to refuse. And Ada wanted _more_ —that was perhaps the most wondrous part. Past lovers had been just as insistent, had been reduced to panting wrecks, but the need they’d chased had been entirely different—they’d been desperate to tumble over an edge that Hecate’s ministrations had pushed them to. They’d wanted a biological reaction, a chemical high. Ada wanted _Hecate_. A concept both mind-boggling and marvelous.

Ada could physically feel the smirk radiating from every fiber of Hecate’s being as she placed another kiss on the space between her breasts. Oh, the woman was teasing her—Ada warred between irritation and adoration, trying to remind herself of a promise she'd made weeks ago to embrace the agony of waiting. Hecate’s mouth moved off-course, bestowing another kiss on the edge of Ada’s left breast. The kiss was like its predecessor, simple and deep and utterly chaste, a complete juxtaposition to the intimacy of its location and the reaction it stirred within its recipient. Another kiss followed, further up the curve of her breast, still kept from Ada’s skin by a barrier of lace, a phantom of weight and warmth.

The third kiss was gently positioned over the peak of her nipple, still just as frustratingly innocent. Then Hecate’s dark eyes flicked up to meet Ada’s gaze and she _hummed_ —Ada felt completely pinned beneath that sound, that gaze, that woman who had somehow turned chastity and melodrama into absolute erotica.

Then ( _gloriously then!_ ) Hecate’s lips parted, taking more of Ada into her mouth, a swirl of tongue followed by the gentle pull of teeth. Her eyes stayed locked on Ada’s as she conducted her latest and most rewarding round of research. Ada could practically read the thoughts flitting through Hecate’s head ( _tongue or teeth, suck or bite, harder or softer, which does she like more, which has a bigger reaction?_ ) as she continued her ministrations, her left hand coming up to cover Ada's other breast, kneading and tweaking with a softer insistency, creating competing sensations that pulled Ada further into waves of building tension. Oh, her deputy’s diligence was on full display, and Ada had never been more appreciative of it.

Hecate tilted her head slightly, the new angle of candle and firelight highlighting the line of shiny, tight new skin across her left cheek—flesh that had been ripped open by Asteria’s attack, bleeding profusely until Ada had healed her with magic. But magic could only do so much. It would take weeks for the skin to fully regenerate, for the scar to truly disappear. Ada’s throat tightened as her eyes remained fixed on that small, shining mark, suddenly keenly aware of the smoke scent still in Hecate’s hair, all the reminders of how close she’d come to losing this woman, to losing all of this. She couldn’t stop herself from lightly tracing the path of the scar, her chest skittering with a wave of fearful relief.

“Ada.” Of course, Hecate had noticed her sudden shift in emotion—she was pulling away, the cool air suddenly rushing to the soaked lace around Ada’s nipple, causing her to shiver. But Hecate’s body was moving closer again, moving to comfort the blonde. “Ada, it’s alright.”

Hecate’s thighs were tightening around her hips with reassurance as she took Ada’s face in her hands, peppering it with kisses as she continued murmuring, “It’s alright, Ada, please don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry. Tell me what to do, please. Tell me how to make you forget.”

Ada didn’t want to forget, didn’t want to ever lose her sense of gratitude, but her throat was too tight with tears to speak. Hecate had moved closer to reassure Ada that she was truly here, but all her nearness did was highlight how fragile she was, how delicate—she was perched in Ada’s lap so easily, her light fingers haplessly fluttering, her hair wisping around her, her collarbones peeking out from the open neck of her blouse, reminding Ada that she truly was human and vulnerable and utterly destructible. Even the cupid’s bow of her lip seemed impossibly fragile, tender and impermanent.

“Talk to me, Ada,” Hecate’s voice was a gentle whisper, but the fear and desperation were screaming in every word.

She pushed past the tears to finally speak, “I just—it’s hard, to not be reminded how close—”

“I know,” Hecate dipped her head, nose brushing against Ada’s in soothing understanding. Her hands found work again, moving up and down Ada’s arms, fingernails rippling across the knits in Ada’s sweater with reassuring rhythm. “When you came back from the Wailing Wishmaker, I felt the same. Except I couldn’t—we weren’t…able to reassure each other the same way, then.”

Ada shifted back slightly, giving herself full access to those dark eyes as she fully comprehended Hecate’s words. The younger woman’s face was glowing as she smiled softly, the creases of her expression helping to hide her new scar. Her right hand came to rest on Ada’s collarbone, fingertips lightly brushing up the line of Ada’s neck. “I’m here, Ada. We’re here. We’re alright. We’re… _more_ than alright, I hope.”

Oh, that was an understatement. But Ada also realized that it was an overlooked understatement, on her part. Yes, Hecate was fragile and human and she was _here_ , alive and happily installed in Ada’s lap—the woman had always been a bundle of contradictions, so it made perfect sense that her delicate frame could still contain an indomitable spirit, a will that made her indestructible beyond measure. That was the part Ada had forgotten, too swept away with emotion and leftover nerves.

Hecate was still watching her with endearing concern, so Ada reassured her, “Yes, we are beyond alright. We’re absolutely, ecstatically marvelous.”

This earned her a breathless grin—again, the action only served to highlight how tremulous life could be. But Ada resolved not to focus on that. Instead, she quite literally buried herself in Hecate, hands slipping around the woman’s waist to bring her closer, mouth landing on those delicate collarbones, the bone beneath the soft skin a small reminder that for all her fragile appearances, Hecate Hardbroom was still strong, still capable of surviving, of overcoming, of always coming back to Ada. Hecate’s head dipped forward involuntarily, her hair creating a curtain around Ada, safe and shielding. Ada’s mouth moved upwards, tasting the skin on Hecate’s neck as her pulse hummed back to life at the sounds her ministrations produced from Hecate.

Hecate’s hands were on Ada’s shoulders, fingernails biting through layers of clothing, encouraging her to continue. She was leaning forward, pressing herself against Ada’s mouth, humming happily as Ada nipped her way to her jawline.

_Practically purring_ , Ada mused silently. The brush of Hecate’s still fully-clothed chest against Ada’s exposed skin was sending sparks shooting through her veins. She could feel the coolness of the timepiece’s chain against her, and she thought of how jealous she’d once been of that little piece of jewelry, so happily tucked under Hecate’s shirt when she’d dressed in her nonmagical clothes, warmed by parts of Hecate’s skin that Ada thought she’d never get to see (that she still hadn’t seen yet _—but only yet, oh, yet, what a wonderful word!_ ). She remembered the rest of Hecate’s outfit that day, the jeans that had left little to the imagination but had sent Ada’s fancy flying in a thousand improper directions—without conscious thought, her hands shifted further down Hecate’s spine, cupping her ass and pulling her even closer.

The friction of that simple movement shot through Hecate like heat lightning and she tumbled further forward. Ada took the opportunity to find purchase on her neck again, biting and sucking at the tender spot below her jaw. Hecate could hear the sounds burbling out of her throat, feminine and needy, but she was helpless to stop them (didn’t _want_ to stop them, didn’t want to stop reassuring Ada that oh, she was perfect, this was perfect, this was everything she wanted and more). Ada responded by tightening her grip, fingertips biting into the flesh of her ass as teeth repeated the pressure on her neck. The frenetic energy rippling through her body was too much, she feared hurting Ada with how tightly she wanted to hold on—her hands scrambled upwards, finding anchor on the side of the chair behind Ada. Her nails dug mercilessly into the fabric, pressing into the wooden frame underneath so deeply that Hecate feared she might actually break a nail, or rip the chair, at the very least. She tried to lift herself up slightly, tried not to smother Ada under the crush of her body and the curtain of her hair, but Ada made a small noise of distress at even the slightest loss of contact. Ada’s hands were splaying wider, taking as much of Hecate into her grasp as she could, pulling her hips down and forward again. That action pushed heat through her hips, and this time, she was helpless to hold back the flood of fire and sensation—her thighs tightened around Ada as she jolted forward with a strangled gasp, heat flickering through her breasts as they shuddered against Ada’s chest, sending a second, smaller wave of pleasure straight to her core.

Ada pulled her back slightly, beautiful blue eyes wide with wonder, “Did you just…”

Hecate was blushing, but not from embarrassment. Her voice was low as she teased, “It’s not my fault that you’re so overwhelming, Ada Cackle.”

Now, Ada had been aware that she had an effect on Hecate Hardbroom, for quite some time. But she hadn’t realized just how potent it was until now. They were still fully clothed (well, _mostly_ fully clothed, on her part), hadn’t really gotten past the point of heavy petting (well, at least in regards to Ada’s attentions towards Hecate’s body), and Hecate was already coming completely undone. She thought back to all the little moments before—like the times they’d walked side-by-side in the garden, bodies bumping and brushing in an increasingly comfortable way, the night they’d danced in the potions lab, Hecate’s hands on her hips, Ada pulling their bodies closer. Oh, what delicious reactions had been brewing beneath the layers of corset and skirt? What physical responses had Hecate been tamping down, trying to hide? What had she done, as soon as she was away from Ada, alone with all the sparks created by their touches?

Hecate felt a small frisson of happiness bubbling in her chest at Ada’s expression—apparently this new realization was a welcome one. Of course, she’d been well-aware of how responsive her own body was (fifty years, she should know how it worked by now, by Goddess), but surprisingly, it hadn’t always been received with the same level of delight.

_What’s the point in seduction if your target melts at the first touch?_ A former lover had once opined. Hecate had felt small and defective, yet again. For once, she was considered too little of a challenge, instead of too much of one, and she realized that each end of the spectrum was equally painful. While no one after that had made such a complaint, she’d always wondered if it was at the back of their minds, a defect that no one else pointed out but every single one noticed.

She need not have that fear with Ada. The blonde was grinning in quiet wonder, as if she’d been given a great gift.

“I must admit, I—I’ve never had someone who made me feel so…desirable,” Ada breathed, her cheeks tinging at the confession. It was a bit of a painful truth. Agatha had been the seductress, the one who simmered and scintillated; she’d been the dependable one, the adorable one, the beloved one. Past lovers had certainly wanted her, physically, but there had always been a softness to it all. “Not that the others weren’t—well, I don’t know how to put it, really. I guess love seemed to be more my forte than…”

“Lust?” Hecate supplied with a slight quirk of her brow. She wore a slightly incredulous expression, as if she couldn’t quite believe Ada’s words. She said the word so easily, with such surety, it sent a wave of heat rippling through Ada’s body again. She dipped her head slightly, lips twisting in to a wry smirk, “I’m afraid I must have failed you on some level, Ada. As you are well aware, words and self-expression are not exactly my strongest suit, but I had thought—well, I had hoped that I had made my feelings on that subject rather clear.”

Her index finger was lazily drawing its way down the warm expanse of Ada’s chest again ( _freckles, oh, she’d never tire of the novelty_ ), her fingernail leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake. Her tone dipped lower, in tandem with her gaze, which delighted at the sight of lace once more, “I do love you, Ada Cackle. Wholeheartedly. And I do desire you just as deeply. Every inch of your body, with every inch of mine.”

For a woman who professed to be weak with words, she certainly knew the exact thing to say to reduce Ada to a quivering mess. She glanced up, dark eyes stopping Ada’s heart as she smirked again, eyebrows lifting in a mixture of taunting and hopefulness. “Perhaps I should try harder to get my point across?”

Oh, her point was made very clear. Still, Ada nodded, pressing her lips together as she reminded herself to breathe.

Usually, Hecate was loathe to talk during sex. It always seemed a bit pointless, a bit off-putting. Why talk about something instead of just doing it? But it was just another way in which Ada proved her uniqueness, Hecate supposed—because she found herself gabbing away. How could she not, when she saw the way her words made Ada’s eyes light up, when they made her skin flush and her breath quicken, when they made Ada finally understand just how wonderful she was, in every way?

“I want you,” she started with a simple truth, an easy statement. Like building a potion, she branched out from the base ingredient, adding the more complex layers with each step. “I want to feel your hands on my body.”

Ada obliged, her hands slipping back down from their position at Hecate’s waist to gently stroke up and down the lines of her outer thighs.

Hecate continued, her own hands responding in kind by slipping over Ada’s breasts, slowly kneading the flushed flesh with measured intent, “I want—I want to feel you, to run my hands over every inch of you.”

She was blushing again as she leaned in, closer to Ada’s mouth, closing her eyes as she confessed. “I want to hear you say my name.”

Again, Ada obeyed, repeating Hecate’s name like a breath of a prayer before the younger woman’s mouth pillaged hers again. Hecate’s thighs were re-tightening around Ada’s hips, her fingernails biting into her breasts as her tongue pushed into Ada’s mouth with such force that the blonde’s head spun with a spike of adrenaline, her pulse rising to thrum in her ears again.

Ada was moaning into Hecate’s mouth, the sound reverberating down her throat and straight to her core. Hecate chased that sound like predator on the hunt, pushing harder into Ada, doing whatever it took to build the volume and the pitch, to make the woman understand: _this is what you do to me, this is how much I want you, yes this is love but oh goddess this is pure lust, can you see, can you see, oh, can you see how you ruin me?_

Hecate ripped her lips away from Ada’s, earning a small whimper at the sudden departure. She kept close, kept their noses brushing, lips still sparking against each other as she spoke. “I want you, just like this—panting and pleading and _mine_.”

Her voice was ragged now, as desperate and shaking as her hands, which were on the prowl again, unfastening more buttons on Ada’s dress, seeking out more skin to discover. The growl in the last word was unmistakable, and Ada suddenly understood how Hecate could have climaxed without hardly any physical assistance at all.

_Mine_. That’s what Hecate wanted, to make Ada hers (foolish woman, didn’t she realize that she’d been Hecate’s for so long now, long before this moment?). Ada felt another rush of wet heat at the thought. She opened her mouth to assure Hecate that she was already hers, wanted to be hers in every way, but Hecate’s hands were slipping back up Ada’s torso, slipping underneath the cups of her bra, finally touching her breasts without any barriers—the simple shock robbed Ada of all speech, and Hecate’s shiver in response only intensified the lightheaded feeling.

Hecate continued, giving up on any attempt to control her breathing or her trembling, “I want to devour every inch of you, Ada. I want—I want to taste you, to feel you inside of me, I want—oh, I want _you_ , Ada.”

She was babbling now, she was highly aware of that. It didn’t seem to matter to Ada, who was making the most delicious little sounds in response, occasionally placing small kisses at the corner of Hecate’s mouth, desperate to kiss her yet unwilling to stop her words. Hecate rather reluctantly removed one of her hands from Ada’s breast to slip around the back of her neck, pulling the woman into another deep kiss. Ada gave a deep moan of relief, pushing the air from her lungs straight into Hecate’s.

_There is it. I am wholly yours now_. Hecate’s mind flickered with realization. For so long, Ada had consumed her thoughts and her affections, and recently had begun commanding near-full control of her body’s responses as well (tonight being a prime example)—and now even the breath in Hecate’s lungs belonged to Ada.

In that moment, she was married. Not that she’d declare such a thing to Ada, not for a long time, but it didn’t matter. She’d been to enough weddings, with all the colleagues and brothers she’d been given—the vows and all their variations spoke of giving oneself to the keeping of another, and taking the other’s body and soul into their own care. She wished for nothing more, than to give her self into Ada’s keeping, to so joyfully take Ada’s into her own.

Apparently Ada had been listening quite attentively to Hecate’s laundry list of desires, because her hands were roving again, shuffling to slip beneath the layers of Hecate’s skirt, clenching with involuntary delight when they met the bare skin of Hecate’s legs. Granted, the lack of stocking had originally been a practical concern—all that walking in the woods had meant that Hecate opted for knee-high socks for her boots, rather than full tights, since she already felt uncomfortable and needed to feel as unencumbered as possible—but now it proved rather useful in a seductive sense as well.

Ada’s palms were pressing into her skin, slowly sliding upwards with such deliberation that Hecate felt her entire body boiling like a cauldron. She pulled back slightly, closing her eyes, “I don’t think—we shouldn’t—”

Ada stopped, immediately confused, but Hecate quickly explained, “No! I didn’t mean—I just, if we continue…here, then it will make things more difficult, later on.”

For the first time in what seemed like ages, she actually glanced around at something besides Ada. “If I—if we—I’m not sure I can bear it, standing in front of your desk talking about expense reports or student enrollment, if I know the whole time I’m standing ten feet away from the place where…”

“Oh,” Ada’s eyes were wide with understanding. “Yes, well, I can see how that might be a bit distracting.”

Now Hecate’s lips twisted into another adoring smirk, “Just a bit.”

Her tone implied the opposite. _Nothing about you or my feelings for you could be classified as just a bit, Ada Cackle._

Ada considered all the things that had already happened here, briefly wondered what kind of reaction their memory would create within Hecate, the next time they were in here for strictly professional reasons (she’d find out, soon enough, she mused wryly). She glanced back at Hecate, still watching her with cautious eyes, still afraid of crossing a line—because of course, Circe was in Hecate’s chambers, but Hecate wouldn’t be the one to suggest retiring to Ada’s, wouldn’t dare to be so presumptuous, as if she hadn’t just whispered the most lascivious things to Ada, as if she hadn’t just _done_ the most lascivious things to Ada, as if she wasn’t to blame for Ada’s undone dress and reddened flesh.

Ada didn’t resist the urge to merely cup that adorable face in her hands, placing a light kiss on the tip of Hecate’s nose before dropping down to bring their lips together again. “Then let’s go somewhere else, shall we?”

The question was mainly teasing, but she needed to leave the door open, needed to make sure that Hecate’s actions were truly her own.

The younger woman grinned in response, slipping away from Ada to pull herself onto her feet before helping Ada to hers (oh, goddess, that sitting position had really done a number of Ada’s hamstrings, she suddenly realized).

Out of instinct, Ada went to refasten the buttons on her dress, but Hecate’s wry tone stopped her. “I wouldn’t bother with that, if I were you.”

She glanced up again to see the triumphant smirk on her deputy’s face—the exact same expression she’d seen all those years ago, the one that had first made her realize that she had feelings for the woman that went far beyond the realm of platonic admiration. She couldn’t help grinning in return as she snapped her fingers and transferred them to her chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

Ada kept her eyes on Hecate, making sure she was still eager to move forward, not too thrown by the abrupt arrival into Ada’s chambers. Hecate’s dark eyes flicked towards the door, a cautious concern filling them.

“Could you—my powers are a bit limited at this point,” Hecate motioned towards the door. “Could you set a protective spell?”

Ada gave a small smile at the request. Hecate never stopped protecting her, not even when they were safely tucked inside the castle. She had no problem setting Hecate’s mind at ease, particularly when she knew it was vital in allowing Hecate’s concentration to fully settle on other matters.

“And a silencing spell?”

Now Ada’s smile became a smirk as she teased, “A silencing spell, my, my.”

Hecate smirked in return, the promise in her eyes unmistakable. “Oh, it isn’t for _my_ benefit, Miss Cackle.”

She was closing the small distance between them again, gaze so intently focused on Ada that the blonde's heart immediately leapt into her throat. With a haphazard dash of her hand, Ada set the second spell, bracing for impact as Hecate’s hands pulled her forward, bringing their mouths back together in a dizzying swirl of teeth and tongue.

 _So no need to worry that she’s suddenly changed her mind, then_ , Ada mused wryly. If anything, being away from the office had stripped what little bit of reserve her deputy had left. Hecate’s lack of hesitation only reinforced the giddy feeling that Ada had experienced earlier—she’d never reduced anyone else to such a needy flurry of hands and teeth, had never had the power to make a body tremble so beautifully at her touch, had never pulled forth such low, teasing growls from another’s throat. Not until now.

She’d waited a long time for Hecate, of course—but she suddenly had the realization that she’d truly waited her whole life for her, to be loved by her, to feel this adored and desired by her. Hecate’s hands were slipping to her shoulders, lightly pulling away her sweater, head dipping lower to pepper kisses down Ada’s neck as she slid the sweater down her arms. With a theatrical flick of her wrist, Hecate sent the item to a nearby chair, where her magic neatly folded it. Ada smiled at the touch—oh, Hecate. Still perfectly herself.

Hecate pulled away slightly to take in the sight of Ada, face shining, hair mussed, lips swollen, lovely laced-covered breasts on display. During her fake engagement, when she’d first realized that perhaps Ada did hold some kind of attraction to her, she’d read a sappy romance novel, in an attempt to research the way love looked, to see if Ada truly exhibited symptoms of attraction. She’d found herself imagining the novel’s heroine as the blue-eyed blonde currently standing in front of her, and the images the book had supplied had nearly driven her insane—but oh, they were nothing compared to the real thing.

She frowned slightly, when she noticed the first mark on Ada’s chest. Then she saw the tiny constellation of blood red crescent moons, blooming across that delightfully freckled skin. She reached up, lightly touching one of them. “I did that.”

Of course it would leave a mark, albeit a temporary one. Of course she knew that—but she hadn’t really considered that fact when she’d made them, when she’d sunk her nails into Ada’s flesh and melted at the moans her actions produced.

“You did,” Ada’s tone was warm and a little breathless.

Hecate brought her gaze up to meet Ada’s, eyebrows lifting as she quietly asked, “And that’s…alright?”

Ada’s smile was soft, but her blue eyes were dancing with mischief. “Only if you’re going to let me do the same.”

The thought of Ada marking her, _claiming_ her, sent a bolt of heat singing between her thighs again. “Oh. Then it’s absolutely alright.”

This time, it was Ada who brought them back into a kiss, humming in approval as Hecate’s hands grasped her hips, pulling their bodies as close together as possible. Hecate trailed kisses away from Ada’s mouth, lightly grazing her jawline with her teeth before coming up to nip Ada’s earlobe. The younger woman’s words reverberated in her mind again, creating a loop that pulsed through Ada’s entire body. _I want you panting and pleading and mine, I want to devour you, I want to taste you…_

“Tell me what you want,” Ada slipped her hands back into Hecate’s hair, lightly pulling her mouth away from Ada’s jawline. Hecate gave a small whine, and Ada was once again struck with the image of a well-mannered wolf. Slipping just a note of her headmistress tone into her words, she repeated, “Tell me what you want, Hecate.”

Oh, Ada couldn’t possibly know what effect that tone of voice had—at least that’s what Hecate thought. But once she saw the gleam in Ada’s expression, she realized that perhaps the woman did know exactly what she was doing.

She wasn’t the only one, Hecate smirked. She also knew the power of her own words—oh, she’d had Ada whimpering with need, trembling at her simple declarations, and she’d eagerly bring the woman back to that brink again. Ever a faithful deputy, she’d gladly follow whatever lead her headmistress set, even in the most intimate of settings— _especially_ then, because oh, how it thrilled her to know that she was doing _exactly_ what Ada wanted, exactly what Ada needed.

“I want you, how you were before,” Hecate found it easier this time, easier when she knew what her words would do, when she knew that the expression didn’t have to be prefect or even particularly coherent, when she knew Ada would feverishly take whatever she could give, grateful for every syllable. She tightened her grip on Ada’s hips, firmly guiding the woman back until Ada was against her wardrobe. The bed was just a few feet away, waiting invitingly in the corner, but Hecate wasn’t quite ready to hit that threshold just yet—she wanted the tension, the build, wanted Ada to feel that she’d taken her time in all things.

Ada sank against the wardrobe with a small sigh, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. Here was the Hecate she’d sensed beneath the surface, the version she’d been dying to bring out to play—the version that currently had Ada pressed between the cool hardness of the wardrobe and the warm softness of her body, arms planted on either side, lightly caging the blonde in as her mouth moved lower, teeth coming out again as she traced a now-familiar path down Ada’s neck.

Hecate kept her lips close to Ada’s skin as she shifted slightly, letting the tip of her nose trace back up the delicious pillar of her neck, feeling a measure of delight in the pulse she felt thrumming at the base of Ada’s jaw. She let her tongue flicker out, a ghost of a touch across Ada’s pulse point, all tease with no relief, and she couldn’t stop her wicked grin at Ada’s small noise in protest.

“Yes, just like that,” Hecate’s voice was low, heavy with lustful approval. “I want you just like this. I want you to know how it feels, to ache with every fiber of your being—I want you to know how I feel, every time I look at you.”

Ada’s entire body rippled with a breathy sigh and Hecate felt the thrill of success. She warred between the desire to fill her hands with Ada and the satisfaction she felt in keeping her current stance, truly shielding Ada from the world outside, creating a world built entirely of their two bodies.

 _Wait_. Her mind urged. _Push her as far as you can, without a single touch._

Still, she pressed herself further against Ada, holding back her own moan as Ada’s hands slithered around her hips in response.

“Oh, Ada,” she breathed, concentrating on pushing her desire into every syllable, channeling the tension in her body into her voice, ensuring Ada heard every ounce of her need and her longing. “Oh, Ada, how I want you.”

Ada was shifting against her, hands clutching tighter in desperation—Hecate had intentionally kept her head ducked close to Ada’s neck, making her own body less accessible to Ada’s mouth. A bit cruel, but it earned her such soft, needy sounds from Ada that she found herself absolutely unable to feel the slightest remorse.

She should have pity. She didn’t. Instead, she found herself wishing to taunt the blonde even more.

Ada suddenly registered the sensation of silk against the exposed skin of her chest. It took Ada a full beat to realize that Hecate’s blouse had vanished—all that remained was a flimsy camisole, the heat from Hecate’s body radiating through the thin fabric as palpably as the flame of a fire.

Her hands slid up from Hecate’s hips hungrily, relishing the feel of the smooth fabric over Hecate’s soft flesh. Her fingertips tangled in the ends of Hecate’s long locks as she continued blindly mapping her way up the woman’s back, traveling up the strength of her spine, pressing her fingers deeper into the muscle.

But oh, she could only take in so much—Hecate was still so tightly pressed against her, yet still keeping her body so far away from Ada’s teeth and tongue. Ada turned her head slightly, taking in the taut lines of Hecate’s arms, still firmly braced against the wardrobe, so desperately calling to be kissed. And oh, Ada couldn’t even see that lovely neck, those delicious collarbones, from her current position.

It simply wasn’t fair, she decided. So her left hand moved to the back of Hecate’s neck, fingers curling through her hair again to pull back—gently at first, testing Hecate’s reaction, and then with slightly more force once she heard the small happy growl in response. She used the solidness of the wardrobe behind her as leverage to push forward, pulling Hecate further way from her own body so that she could fully see the rest of Hecate’s.

And oh, what a sight it was. So much pale skin on display, certainly more than Ada had ever seen before, crisp collarbones and a flushed chest, her neck seeming even longer as it arched back under Ada’s grasp, leading up to an open-mouthed smirk and a pair of half-closed eyes that watched her with dark amusement. Ada had never been one to find smugness attractive, but goddess above, Hecate wore it so well. This new angle on Hecate’s smile only served to highlight the size and sharpness of her teeth, and Ada couldn’t help feeling like Red Riding Hood who’d somehow captured the hungry wolf.

 _Except I have teeth, too,_ Ada thought, launching herself at that beautifully strained neck, which seemed to be screaming for attention. She felt Hecate’s entire frame quake around her and she felt a ripple of satisfaction in response. _Hecate Hardbroom: lover of commands, compliments, and neck bites_. A growing list that Ada would take absolute ecstasy in expanding.

Hecate was laughing against her teeth now, a warm, rumbling chuckle that reverberated in Ada’s chest. Ada sucked hard at the point where her neck met her shoulder, and Hecate’s amusement was cut short with a sharp gasp. She gave a small, triumphant laugh of her own.

Ada’s mouth was sending fire through Hecate’s limbs, making her muscles tremble and tense again as her fingernails pressed against the wood of the wardrobe, trying not to fly from their current posts and simply devour Ada then and there. No, she must let Ada take what she wanted—after all, Ada had patiently given her free reign to explore her body, earlier, had let Hecate explore that intoxicating new land of lace and electric sensation without interference. Hecate’s lips suddenly ached, desperate to be buried in the valley between Ada’s breasts again, kissing and nipping and sucking their way across every inch.

Currently not a possibility, as Ada was busy trailing down the same path as the chain of Hecate’s timepiece, her left hand still firmly holding Hecate’s hair. Hecate gave a wry smirk, _Ada, the sacrifices I make for you_.

Ada’s right hand came up to lightly trace under the curve of Hecate’s breasts, the tentative touch sending ripples of electricity over Hecate’s skin, making them feel tighter and heavier, aching for more contact, more pressure. But Ada kept her touches tender, almost reverent, and despite the frustrating edge it gave, Hecate found herself closing her eyes in quiet happiness. Oh, she’d stay suspended in agony forever, if Ada was the one torturing her.

Hecate tilted her head down slightly, wanting to just place a kiss atop that blonde head—anything, any way to touch her again—but Ada pulled her back sharply, the pressure and the absolute command of the gesture sending another flood of heat down Hecate’s thighs.

Ada glanced up, making sure her last action hadn’t been too rough, too much for Hecate—it had been a flash of sheer instinct, without any thought at all. If the flushed cheeks and heavy breathing were anything to go by, it had been well received. Hecate opened her eyes again at the realization that Ada’s mouth was no longer on her skin, and she answered the unspoken question with a slight smile, shifting her body closer to Ada’s again, tilting her head back further, exaggerating the strain on her neck and shoulders. _Go on, take what you want._

A lovely invitation, but not what Ada wanted, in this moment. So she kept her gaze locked on Hecate as she quietly asked, “Do you still want to devour every inch of me?”

Goddess, the woman was trying to murder Hecate Hardbroom, here and now. Standing there, staring straight into her soul with those breathtakingly blue eyes, speaking so calmly, still holding her so tightly. Hecate’s entire body shuddered in response, a whine pushing involuntarily from her chest in response. Even when Hecate had been listing all the things she wanted from Ada, all the things she wanted to do to Ada, she’d been unable to look the woman in the eye, had kept her eyes closed and her head ducked, still not quite brave enough for that final layer of vulnerability—it wasn’t surprising that darling, fearsome Ada held that courage and ability, but it still sent a wave of awestruck adoration through her.

“Yes,” she found her voice, pushed together some measure of courage for Ada, as always.

“Then I suggest you try a little harder,” Ada was smiling still, but a different kind of smile than Hecate had ever seen before.

There was a beat of heavy silence as Hecate quietly weighed her words, dark brows knitting together as she tried to read Ada’s expression, tried to properly comprehend her command.

Ada felt herself blushing at her own brazenness, at all the thoughts that tumbled around her heart and her mind, the ones she couldn’t fully express yet— _please be my wolf, please show me that you can lose control, Hecate Hardbroom, please show me how far you’re willing to go, just to prove how much you want me._

Still, her chivalrous lover wouldn’t do anything that Ada didn’t expressly want, she knew. So she would have to find a way to voice that desire. Her throat tightened as she breathed, “Show me how much you want me.”

Oh. So _that’s_ what Ada wanted. The realization was like a single, giant pin-prick to Hecate’s body.

Ada saw Hecate’s eyes widen with understanding, and she felt a wave of anticipation expanding in her lungs. Hecate was slowly tilting her head downwards again, eyes still taking in every nuance of Ada’s expression, the corner of her mouth quivering into a small smile for the briefest of flashes.

Ada tugged on Hecate’s hair again, just lightly enough to be felt, to test her. Now Hecate was fully grinning, fully apprised of the scene. Ada’s other hand sank into the softness of Hecate’s breast, earning her a happy sigh of relief, mixed with an encouraging whine for more.

 _Try a little harder_ , Ada’s words echoed in Hecate’s head as she took in the press of Ada’s lips, the hopeful lilt of her eyebrows. In that moment, that fleeting flash of an expression, Hecate saw her hesitation, her worry, her fear.

She genuinely still couldn’t believe that Hecate wanted her so deeply, so desperately. And she truly believed that there could ever be a request that Hecate wouldn’t fulfill, that Hecate would baulk at something as simple as wanting reassurance.

That simply couldn’t continue. Not for a second longer.

Ada saw the determination settling into Hecate’s features, and her knees began to shake. Oh, she was in no way prepared for this—that was her last coherent thought before Hecate crashed into her, all fire and fury. Her hands grabbed Ada’s hips, pulling them fully together as her mouth reclaimed Ada’s, all teeth and tongue. Her right hand came up, roughly pulling Ada’s left hand from its nest in her hair and pinning it against the wardrobe. Ada’s right hand was still clutching Hecate’s breast, crushed between their two bodies, and she used it to telegraph her approval, squeezing as much as she could to relay her encouragement.

Hecate felt an odd sensation on her left wrist—her hazy brain took a moment to realize that it was her connection bangle, feeling the pressure of her right hand, which was wrapped around Ada’s wrist, pressing into Ada’s bangle. She used it as a gauge, tightening her right hand’s grip slightly, making sure it wasn’t too painful. It created a strange loop of constant feedback, making her left hand increase its hold on Ada’s hip in response.

Ada was moaning and whimpering into her mouth, making her head swim with another wave of desire. Oh, she’d chase those sound to the ends of the earth, she’d do anything to make Ada like this, again and again.

Her left hand fumbled, pulling Ada’s right hand from between their bodies and smacking it against the wardrobe. She gave each of Ada’s wrists one last squeeze, her voice unrecognizable as she harshly whispered, “Stay.”

Ada couldn’t respond verbally, because Hecate’s mouth was covering hers again, the long strokes of her tongue causing reactions in other parts of Ada’s body. Hecate’s nails were dragging down the lines of Ada’s arms, setting fire to the skin. With a flick of Hecate’s wrist, the rest of Ada’s dress came unbuttoned, the cool air greeting her overheated skin with a delicious shock.

Hecate’s hands were moving further down, appreciating the curves of her breasts again before slipping down her sides. Blindly, they mapped out the lines of Ada’s high-waisted bottoms, and she couldn’t help but grin at the way Hecate’s moan of appreciation melted in her mouth.

Lace and mesh met Hecate’s palms again, and she realized that Ada must be wearing a matching lingerie set. Almost without conscious effort, she magicked away Ada’s dress, stepping back to take in the whole picture.

Ada had dressed up for her, she was sure of it now. The bra and bottoms were a delicate construction of crème and pale pink, at points blending so well with Ada’s skin that she seemed like some kind of mythical creature, some flowery nymph—though the garter straps and nude-colored thigh-high stockings were decidedly more boudoir than woodland. Her heart clenched at the little cat ballet flats that still adorned Ada’s feet (really, it was ridiculous, to be so affected by a pair of slippers, but she would have to stop being surprised by all the ways her love for Ada spilled into the most mundane things).

“This,” she was breathless, overcome with a mixture of desire and delight. “Did you—you really weren’t joking, when you said you had expectations for tonight.”

Ada blushed at the sense of wonder in Hecate’s voice, which flooded her features in the most endearing of ways. “Well, I wasn’t sure. I just—I thought it would be nice, if something were to happen.”

“It’s beyond nice,” Hecate assured her, moving closer again, eyes still wide as she tried to take in every detail, hands fluttering around haplessly, as if she couldn’t decide where to start, couldn’t figure out where she wanted to touch most. Ada’s heart flipped and fluttered with joy, still in awe of Hecate’s reaction.

Suddenly, Hecate blinked, looked up at her with slight dismay.

“Oh, Ada, I didn’t,” Hecate shifted back slightly, glancing down at her own clothing, mentally cataloguing what was underneath. “I could conjure something up, if—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ada assured her, bubbling with love for this woman and all the ridiculous ways that she tried to make everything absolutely perfect for Ada. With a grin, she added, “You can do it next time.”

“Next time,” Hecate repeated, her expression softening as her eyes shone. _Next time_ , of course, there would be a next time—a lifetime of next times, if she had her way. With a snap of her fingers, she vanished her own skirt and boots, sending them to a neatly folded pile in the chair with Ada’s things (normally, she wouldn’t care where their clothes landed, but this was Ada’s space, and she would be respectful).

Ada realized that Hecate’s camisole was actually a full slip with a short skirt—she didn’t get a proper look, though, because the younger woman was bringing her body against Ada’s again, the bare warmth of her thighs brushing against Ada’s, sending a shower of shooting stars across their skin. Hecate’s breathing was shallow, tinged with small delighted sounds, as if she were going to laugh at any moment. Finally, her hands settled on Ada’s body, stroking the lines of her shoulders, down the length of her arms with gentle adoration before moving south, her mouth close behind.

Hecate’s hands were tender, moving up and down the curves of her waist and hips with loving appreciation, but her mouth was more insistent. Her tongue slipped beneath the lace, lapping at the warmth of Ada’s skin before her lips moved to the exposed skin above the cups of her bra, teasing the flesh between her teeth. She could feel the heat from Ada’s body radiating against her cheek, felt every shift of her breathing, every little sigh and whimper. She bit down a little harder and smirked at Ada’s noises in response, at the way she leaned in to Hecate’s mouth, silently begging for more.

With a snap of her fingers, Hecate took away the bra, feeling a ripple of giddy delight in the way Ada’s breasts bounced from the sudden loss of support. She used her tongue to trace under the curve of Ada’s right breast, slowly nuzzling upwards until she reached the taut nipple, gingerly using her teeth to tug at the nub, earning her another strangled gasp from Ada. Then her tongue came out to soothe, her lips taking as much of Ada’s flesh in as possible.

Hecate made a rumbling sound of delight, and Ada realized that Hecate’s attempts to tease her were just as torturous to the woman herself. In retrospect, it didn’t surprise her—as usual, Hecate was sacrificing herself in service to others. Ada made a promise to herself that by the end of the night, Hecate would be duly rewarded for all her patience, for her little acts of martyrdom, for all the ways she was so wonderfully taking care of Ada.

That lovely mouth was on the move again, dipping lower to place kisses down the line of Ada’s stomach, hands slipping lower like heralds of things to come, nails ghosting over the sensitive skin at the tops of Ada’s thighs, the warm weight of Hecate’s lips on her hip an anchor against the shivers that rippled through her body.

Hecate could feel the shallowness of her own breaths. She stopped for a moment, reminding herself to breath, to take her time, to build up Ada’s tension until the last possible moment. Still, her mouth strayed, controlled by its own accord, slowly migrating from the side of Ada’s hip to the space between her thighs. Ada’s scent flooded her senses, and she had to close her eyes against the onslaught of heat that shot through every inch of her body, primal and overpowering. She let out a heavy breath, her own core tightening in response. Ada shifted, ever-so-slightly opening her thighs, a small and silent invitation, and Hecate nearly crumbled to pieces. She kept her mouth away, knowing that if she got the slightest taste, she’d be powerless to stop. However, she continued following the trail, letting her warm breath gust over Ada’s sensitive flesh, stopping to close her eyes again as she gave into the temptation for more.

Ada was fairly certain she’d pull a muscle in her attempts not to turn into a shaking mess at the erotic slowness of Hecate’s approach. She tried to stay still, to embrace the ecstatic agony of the almost-touch of Hecate’s skin, the feeling of her breath, the measured slowness of her movements. She closed her eyes and willed herself to wait.

Then she felt it—the first tentative brush, through the lace. But it wasn’t Hecate’s tongue, it was…her nose. She was nuzzling between Ada’s thighs, leaving the lightest of kisses on the soft skin of her inner thighs. It was adoring and animalistic and Ada couldn’t even understand how such a juxtaposition could exist but she had neither the desire nor the current mental capacity to unravel it. She felt Hecate sigh against her skin, could feel the way Hecate inhaled deeply again with a moan that she felt echoing in her core, muscles tightening in reply.

Hecate was fighting her own urges, her mind still crying out that there would only be one first taste of Ada, only one chance to cross this threshold. Her nose was pressing against the lace of Ada’s underwear, jaw tightening at how soaked the fabric already was ( _this is mine, my work, my doing, this is how much Ada wants me, how much she loves me_ ). She wanted to savor this moment, to truly share it with Ada—she was quite literally burying her face in Ada’s thighs and yet the sounds from Ada seemed so far away, so distant.

Ada whined at the flood of dissatisfying coolness as Hecate retreated, filling with confusion. Hecate was up against her again, lips just inches away from Ada’s, dark eyes searching her face for something, muting Ada’s frustration into curiosity. Hecate’s left hand brushed against her cheek, fingertips lightly pressing against her skin.

It took Ada a moment to realize that she didn’t feel the prick of Hecate’s nails—she must have magicked them shorter. Hecate gave a soft smile, trilling her fingertips down Ada’s jawline to further make her point, _See, I’m not going to hurt you._

As if that were ever a concern for Ada. Still she smiled in reassurance, shifting her hip against Hecate, opening her legs wider. Hecate was dipping her head, gaze following her hand which trailed back down Ada’s side, slipping between her legs with easy surety. Her eyelids fluttered as she brushed past the lace barrier of Ada's bottoms, fingertips immediately drenched.

Ada watched her with breathless anticipation, burning with curiosity and desire. Hecate’s eyes flicked back to Ada’s face, the shy hesitation only ratcheting the cocktail of emotions building in Ada’s veins. A single finger slipped in further, teasing Ada’s entrance, which tightened in response. Hecate was still almost-fearful, as if she wasn’t sure this was what Ada wanted, and Ada felt another wash of confusion. How could she doubt anything, at this point?

Then Hecate’s hand slipped away and the intensity of her gaze grew. Although Ada knew that her arms were against the wardrobe of her own accord, she felt as if she were truly pinned down, trapped beneath those dark eyes and that unreadable expression. Hecate’s gaze flitted to Ada’s mouth, for just a second, and Ada felt the first prickle of intuition.

Hecate’s hand was trembling, but she had no power left to steady it. Gently she reached up, fingertips still wet from Ada, holding her breath as she lightly touched her index finger to Ada’s bottom lip. Ada didn’t pull away, and when she looked back up into Ada’s eyes, she saw no hesitation, no disgust, only curiosity and a tinge of awe.

It was that last bit that gave Hecate courage to continue, outlining Ada’s lips with the arousal on her fingertips, taking one last shaky breath before leaning in to kiss her, to finally taste her. Her head swam at the lightness that burst across her tastebuds, the slick new texture of Ada’s lips seeping another layer of heat into her veins. There was a growl of pleasure and it took her a beat to realize she was the one making it.

Ada was whimpering in approval, melting further into kiss as Hecate hungrily sucked at her bottom lip, tongue diving back inside Ada’s mouth for more. Hecate pulled back, continuing with open-mouthed kisses, giving Ada a chance to breath as her hand slipped between Ada’s legs again, her fingers more insistent this time, sliding through the wet heat, one finger curving up to trace around the edges of Ada’s clit, all tease and no relief. And this time there was no hesitancy when Hecate pulled her mouth back slightly, giving her soaked fingers the chance to cover Ada’s lips again.

After so many years and so many lovers before, Ada had assumed that she’d experienced most intimate scenarios that one could devise. And yes, she’d tasted herself on the lips of others before, but this was different—Hecate had shared this with her, her first true taste of Ada had passed Ada’s lips before her own, an erotic communion that once again struck Ada with its animalistic edge, with how surprisingly uninhibited Hecate could be, when it came to loving her. She felt another surge of delight in realizing that behind all the shy smiles and secretively held hands, this version had waited, yearning for the chance to come out, to lay claim, to run wild—and Ada wanted nothing more than to run with her.

She heard Hecate’s soft gasp as she took the woman’s fingers in her mouth, sucking away the taste of herself while lovingly lavishing those fingers that had held her down, had caressed her body, had left marks to prove just how desirable she was, in every aspect. Hecate gave a small whine, her mouth crashing back into Ada’s before her hand was even fully out of the way, desperate and searching. Ada’s hands couldn’t stand it anymore—they landed on Hecate’s neck, pulling her in deeper as they slipped back into that thoroughly tangled mess of hair. The silk from Hecate’s slip was rubbing against her nipples, hot and sparking as Hecate shook with need, her own hands clutching at Ada’s hips like a shipwrecked woman clinging to a life raft.

Hecate was suckling her lips again, tongue slipping out to chase any last taste of Ada across her skin, consumed with eagerness in a way that only stoked Ada’s desperation in turn. Hecate’s hands went to Ada’s wrists, pulling her away, freeing herself to kneel down, dark eyes still looking up in a mixture of adoration and sheer lust.

Those expressive hands were tenderly fingering the clasps of Ada’s garter straps, silently seeking permission (as if that were necessary, at this point, but oh, if the action wasn’t so purely Hecate). Still, Ada felt a moment of hesitation.

“I think, if the past hour has been any indication of what’s to come, I won’t be able to stay upright much longer,” she admitted softly.

Hecate blushed, partly from the compliment hidden in the words, and partly from chagrin at not considering Ada’s comfort sooner. She shifted back, rising to her feet, “Of course, I’m—”

“Oh, no, I was quite happy to be pinned up against you,” Ada informed her, her tone laden with teasing. “I just wouldn’t mind being pinned underneath you, either.”

Hecate was so flushed that she was practically glowing. Again, Ada’s directness was both admirable and breathtaking. She took another step back, holding out her hand in a courteous fashion, as if the bed were some great distance instead of a mere few feet.

Now that Hecate was slightly further away, Ada could truly appreciate what little clothing she still wore. And despite Hecate’s dismay over not dressing up, it was just as effective in seducing Ada, with the way it clung to her body, the way the black silk’s sheen rippled in the light, highlighting the body beneath with every movement. Her knee-high black stockings only highlighted the delicate set of her ankles, and there was something so profanely fragile about seeing her legs, so bare and so pale. Ada had always liked the way Hecate dressed, but goodness, it had hidden so much from her imagination—probably a good thing, considering the effect it had on her now. Those tight fits and sharp lines had hidden a world of softness, a world which begged to be explored.

Hecate stood there, keenly aware of Ada’s gaze and willing herself to simply wait, to let herself be seen. She felt a moment of confusion when she saw a flash of pained compassion flicker through Ada’s blue eyes, but when she followed her gaze, she suddenly understood.

A bruise, red and angry and slowly muting to purple, stretched down the side of her left hip and thigh. Of course, her cocktail of magic and potions had kept her from feeling the effects, but her body was still damaged from her battle with Asteria. This particular mark was from being tossed about like a ragdoll by the roots that Asteria had turned into weapons.

“Oh,” Hecate dipped her head, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her slip, instinctively trying to hide the bruise. She knew there would be more blemishes on her body, more things to evoke Ada’s pity, to remind her of death and destruction rather than desire and devotion. “I didn’t—I hadn’t considered—”

“Please, don’t.” Ada stepped forward, reaching out to gently stop her. Hecate looked up again, a soft mixture of worry and wonder in her face as Ada continued, “Don’t shield yourself from me, Hecate. You’re beautiful and this—this is reminder that you’re resilient, too.”

Hecate was blushing again, the flush across her chest matching her cheeks. Ada couldn’t help but add, “Besides, I’m pretty sure I have one as well, on my knee—I did bump into the coffee table rather hard last week.”

The younger woman laughed, a low, full, bubbling sound that set them back on track again. With a wry shake of her head and a smile that twisted the corners of her mouth in adoration, Hecate reached for her again, quietly decreeing, “I do love you, you silly little thing.”

Ada allowed the insult, only because Hecate’s mouth covered hers before she could protest, only because Hecate’s tone had been so soaked with love that the words themselves meant nothing, only because she was _Hecate’s_ silly little thing, and that made all the difference.

Still, once their lips parted, Ada couldn’t help but point out, “Silly little thing who had you falling to pieces with a simple kiss on the neck.”

Hecate hummed in amused agreement, lips thinning into a long and hungry smile at the recent memory. The action only highlighted the sharpness of her teeth as she murmured, “I don’t exactly remember you being a pillar of self control, either, Ada Cackle.”

“As stated earlier: we make a great team.”

Another warm hum sounded as Hecate recaptured the blonde's mouth, this time keeping her agreement purely nonverbal. Her arms slipped around Ada’s waist to steady her as she gently led her back to the bed. Ada’s knees hit the mattress first, and she easily slid down to sit on the edge of the bed, her hands on Hecate’s hips. She smiled softly at the timepiece on its chain, nearly eye level with her now.

Hecate noticed her gaze, quietly spoke, “I suppose I should take that off—”

“Let me,” Ada interjected, before Hecate could magic it away. Given the state of Hecate’s hair, there was no way she was actually pulling that chain over her head—a guaranteed tangled mess, for sure. There was a clasp on the chain, though Ada imagined that Hecate rarely used it, since the necklace was long enough to simply slip on.

For some reason, this was the request that made Hecate blush. With a soft sound of agreement, she sank to her knees, sweeping her hair over her left shoulder and shifting the chain so that the clasp rested on the curve of her right. She tilted her head, giving Ada’s hands better access.

The sight took Ada’s breath away—Hecate on her knees, between _her_ knees. This new angle gave her a perfect glimpse past the silk slip, to the black bra beneath and the inviting way it pressed Hecate’s breasts onto display. She wasn’t quite sure how she held her hands steady enough to unclasp the chain at all.

The timepiece was quickly magicked to Ada’s vanity, and Hecate was gazing back up at her with a gentle smile. Her hands were back on Ada’s garter straps, thumbs rubbing small circles around the little bows on the clasps. Ada felt a wash of love at the gesture, the way Hecate never wasted a second that could be spent adoring her.

Ada’s fingers slipped under the thin back straps of the slip. She gently tugged, “May I?”

Hecate’s face flashed with concern as she pointed out, “There will be more bruises.”

The worry in her tone wasn’t for herself, Ada knew. It was for Ada—she didn’t want to upset Ada with the sight.

“I know,” Ada returned, just as gently. “I want to see them.”

Hecate blinked quickly, her eyes glistening as she gave a short nod of consent. Ada magicked away the slip, her breath catching at all the newly exposed skin.

She thought of Hecate kneeling before her, just that morning. Promising to protect herself, for Ada’s sake. Her own white knight, ready to do whatever was necessary to protect her—an image she’d unknowingly built in Ada’s mind over the years, through all her risks and sacrifices, through every attempt she made to keep the school and its girls safe, to bring Ada back from one tragedy or another.

Now the latest battle was won, and Ada wanted to pledge a fealty of her own. To reward her valiant defender, to worship the scars and bruises she’d gained, to prove to Hecate that all her risks were being rewarded, that her bravery was seen and adored. She gently pulled the younger woman to her feet, dipping her head slightly to place the lightest of kisses on the deep red welt across her ribcage. She felt Hecate’s stuttering chest beneath her mouth and smiled.

“Does it hurt?” She asked quietly, gingerly placing her hands on Hecate’s hips.

“No,” the younger woman’s hands were in Ada’s hair, caressing and encouraging her to continue. “No, it feels rather wonderful right now.”

Ada hummed in amusement at the assessment. She continued following the mark with tender kisses, back to the center of Hecate’s torso. Her hands wandered, lightly dusting over the lines of Hecate’s ass, back up her spine, gentle and grounding and worshipful in a way that made Hecate’s throat tighten with emotion.

 _Cherished_. The grateful emotion from the fireside swelled in her chest again, and Hecate closed her eyes in quiet happiness. It had been unfathomable to her, Ada’s confession that previous partners hadn’t approached loving her from a place of absolute lust. How could they _see_ her, how could they know her and love her, and still be placid? It was a riddle she never wanted to solve, truly, but in that moment, in the tenderness of Ada’s affection, she’d realized that she had been on the opposite end of that spectrum. Past lovers, past one-night stands, past things-in-between, had charged into Hecate’s body with the singular intent of either possessing or being possessed. Hecate had (until now) understood that she was incapable of inspiring love, but something in her personality had still spoken to certain other personalities, had called out a need in others, a need which she had so eagerly fulfilled. Some had wanted her submission, others had craved to submit to her. Those moments had not been without their pleasures, she could admit—but they’d all lacked the same thing: a desire to truly love. A whole-hearted acceptance, a tenderness that only lived under the name of love. They’d lacked _Ada_. Ada, who knew her and still stayed, who truly saw her and still loved, who deserved everything Hecate could give and more.

This feeling was euphoric, and Hecate wanted Ada to feel the same—she thought of the blonde’s flushed expression when she’d admitted to Hecate’s polar opposite of never being desired so deeply. She could give Ada things that no one else had. She could be different, and worthy. She lacked so much courage in so many things, but she could be fearless in giving Ada exactly what she wanted. Anything and everything, for Ada.

Ada felt Hecate’s hands tightening in her hair, gently tilting her head back to lean forward and recapture her mouth with hot insistence. Then Ada was sinking back onto the bed, Hecate’s body slipping over hers with surprising weight (she always seemed so thin, so fragile, a mere wisp of smoke, it was reassuring to be reminded that she was here, truly weighted and human and solid and _here_ ). The warm electricity of their skin meeting made Ada catch her breath, and she heard Hecate’s hum of amusement in response as she brought her mouth back to Ada’s. She dragged Ada’s bottom lip between her teeth before turning her attentions further downward, nipping and nuzzling her way down Ada’s neck with the kind of heated pressure that only built the tension singing in Ada’s veins.

She bit the side of Ada’s breast with such intensity that it made the blonde jump.

“Alright?” She asked quietly, placing a chaste, tender kiss over the spot.

“Perfect,” Ada answered back, closing her eyes in delight as Hecate continued her assault, dragging her teeth across sensitive skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses in her wake. Hecate’s fingertips were slipping down the tops of her thighs, blindly finding the garter clasps and snapping them undone—Ada could feel her self-satisfied smirk against her ribcage and she felt another small wave of adoration for this woman and her ridiculous little quirks. Her amusement quickly melted as those expressive hands moved upwards again, nails sinking into the curves of Ada’s hips appreciatively before lightly pulling at the fabric covering them. That simple, small movement telegraphed lines of desire through Ada’s body—without any true conscious thought, she removed the offending piece of fabric that separated her skin from Hecate’s hands.

Hecate gave a small burble of surprise against Ada’s skin when she realized what Ada had done. For a moment, Ada felt a flash of regret—she hadn’t meant to take away Hecate’s chance to do it herself. But when she glanced down to apologize, she met Hecate’s dancing eyes and smirking lips.

“Patience is a virtue, Miss Cackle.”

Oh, that woman. She was truly trying to completely wreck Ada. There was no other explanation for her teasing.

“I don’t think I have much need for virtue, at the moment,” Ada answered with a wry lift of her eyebrows.

Hecate laughed, a true, deep laugh, leaning her head forward to place another light kiss on Ada’s stomach. “Hmm, I suppose not.”

She glanced up again, expression absolutely wicked. Again, the angle and the lighting made the scar on her cheek shine—but this time, Ada found it fierce rather than fragile. Here was her warrior, her champion, her brazen love. Here was a woman built to survive. Here was her true Hecate.

“Don’t worry,” the fearsome woman ducked her head again, teeth coming out to nip at Ada’s hipbone. “I won’t make you wait much longer.”

Ada shivered at the promise, and Hecate felt a measure of warmth in response. How she loved this woman, for how patiently her hands rested at her sides, for how patiently she let Hecate build her own pace, for how easily she trusted Hecate, how willingly she submitted to Hecate’s hands. Hecate pushed her mouth to express this adoration, biting and kissing and sucking her way down Ada’s thigh, closing her eyes in pure bliss at the sounds her actions drew from the blonde.

 _Do you still want to devour me?_ Ada’s words echoed in her mind, every repetition sending another of ripple of heat across her skin. Oh, yes, she most certainly did. She wanted to swallow Ada whole, to keep her with her always, to take in every ounce, every nuance of this moment in pristine detail, a treasure she’d never expected to earn, a gift she could never possibly repay.

She traced the soft skin of Ada’s inner thigh with her tongue, lungs shaking with need as she slowly moved closer to Ada’s center. Her hands slipped over the tops of Ada’s thighs again, and she felt a jolt of delighted surprise when Ada’s hands grasped hers, lightly squeezing them in a mixture of reassurance and impatience. She bit back a laugh. Sweet Ada. Wonderful, darling Ada, who’d been so patient through it all. She should return that kindness, should give Ada what she wanted—but being a tease was so thrilling, getting to watch Ada flush and unravel.

Ada had to remind herself to breathe as she felt Hecate return the pressure of her hands. She felt a tremor of relief at the first feeling of Hecate’s breath against her core—only to have it mute to frustration as Hecate’s lips gently landed on her opposite thigh, a tiny, quick kiss that did nothing to soothe her fraying edges.

Goddess, she’d sworn that she would let Hecate set the pace, would never rush the woman, but this was driving her insane. She found herself stuttering, “He-Hecate, please. Just— _please_.”

She felt the woman’s entire body stiffen. She looked down in confusion—surely her words hadn’t upset Hecate. One glance at her deputy’s face informed her that she wasn’t upset at all. Quite the opposite.

Hecate’s dark eyes were shining as she swallowed and quietly said, “You’re…quite lovely when you beg.”

Ada’s lungs tightened in response. She fought back a whine as Hecate’s hands flexed inside her grasp, fingers pulling down the sides of her hips.

“Will you beg for me?” Hecate’s voice was still so quiet, still tinged with an endearing shyness. Ada suddenly realized that this was the first time she’d actually requested something, all night—a request Ada would gladly fill.

She closed her eyes, tilting her face back to the ceiling, “Please, Hecate, please—just touch me, please—”

Her efforts were rewarded with Hecate’s mouth on her inner thigh again, a kiss that turned into a sucking bite, tongue trilling along the mark with hot insistency. Her words came faster, tumbling and barely coherent as the intensity of Hecate’s attention grew. Hecate’s hands left hers, settling on Ada’s inner thighs and pushing them wider. Ada nearly sang with delight.

“Yes, Hecate—please, I need you—please—”

Every nerve ending was crackling with electricity, so sensitive that she could feel the warmth of Hecate’s skin before the woman even touched her. The heat of Hecate’s tongue was nearly enough to shatter her completely, the weight and warmth such a welcome sensation after the torturous build up, a simple, broad stoke as Hecate trailed from her entrance upwards, stopping just short of the pulsing bundle of nerves. The tip of her tongue delicately swirled around the sensitive area, obviously aware of how close to the edge her lover was. Fingers tightened and stung into Ada’s thighs, a counterbalance to the frenetic tension zipping in her hips that only made her heart pound faster.

Whatever relief she’d felt at finally receiving Hecate’s touch soon disappeared, foam on a raging sea of fire. Hecate’s tongue was circling her entrance, making her muscles tighten in response, pushing her between ecstasy and agony—she had the distinct feeling that Hecate knew exactly what she was doing, and imagining what reaction this was creating in Hecate only sent more sparks through her body.

Ada could be a researcher, too. She buried her hands in Hecate’s hair, let her desperation be felt against her scalp as she begged harder, nearly crying with need and want. As suspected, her intensity was matched by her lover. Hecate’s tongue dove inside her, palms pressing her thighs open even wider, straining muscles warring with sheer relief. But again, relief was fleeting—Hecate’s tongue was on the move again, sliding further up with pressure and intention, stroking against Ada’s clit before lips ( _oh, those beautiful, fragile, wonderful lips_ ) covered her, sucking and massaging at intervals. Ada’s entire body jolted at the contact, delight and desire filling every fiber of her being. She felt her magic swelling in her lungs, her fingertips tingling with a need to unleash the building tension, but she held back. She’d waited for this, for all this delicious agony, for longer than she’d waited for anything else in her life—she’d wanted this, more than she’d wanted anything else in her life, and she would savor every second.

Hecate could feel Ada falling apart all around her, could hear her own name, barely coherent, repeated like some kind of ancient mantra as Ada’s fingers flexed and pulled at her hair, every muscle taut with need. Yes, she’d come quite beautifully, soon enough. Hecate focused on the thought of Ada undone, imagining her face, the rise and fall of her lovely flushed and freckled chest—oh, her own thighs twitched and tightened in response at the mere thought.

Ada felt a wave of confusion through her adrenaline-hazed brain as Hecate’s tongue left its task. She felt Hecate slipping away from her, all that lovely silken hair disengaging from her grasp—she opened her eyes to see Hecate standing, what little clothing she’d been wearing completely gone. But Ada couldn’t truly take in her naked form—she was captured by her eyes, by the intensity that pinned her to the bed and made her helpless. Hecate was leaning forward, moving up the bed to slide her body over Ada’s, making the blonde moan at the sheer electric shock of feeling their bodies finally molding together without anything in between. Ada’s hands were greedily taking in all the newly exposed softness, though her eyes were still locked onto Hecate’s. The younger woman was still watching her with such clinical intensity, with the same look she’d used to map Ada’s features a dozen times since their timid courtship’s small beginning, tinged with a hunger that Ada had never seen before.

Hecate’s left thigh was slipping between Ada’s, shifting so that her hip was firmly against Ada’s center. She gave a single, deep roll of her hips, watching Ada’s reaction.

“Is that enough?” She asked, barely audible. Her entire body was shaking, and Ada knew it was purely from desire. The thought alone sent a bolt of heat through Ada’s blood. She made Hecate this way—taut and trembling and singularly focused in her desire to shatter Ada in the best of ways.

Ada couldn’t speak—she made a noise of agreement, involuntarily gasping as Hecate rolled into her again, grinding against the pulsing heat between her legs. Her hands slipped down, clutching Hecate’s hips, encouraging her as they found rhythm. Hecate dipped her head forward, mouth trailing down Ada’s neck—Ada could feel the sticky warmth of herself still on Hecate’s lips and chin, felt a sudden desire to taste herself through Hecate again. She let her left hand come up to pull at Hecate’s hair, redirecting that mouth back to her own, leaving open-mouthed kisses across Hecate’s skin, tongue singing with the taste that greeted her. She felt another shudder down her spine at how primal it all felt, like some Beltane-infused madness of ancient times—the heavy weight of Hecate grinding against her, the sound of their bodies shifting and sliding, breaths panting and moaning, the heady scent of sex, the hungry way their mouths met and melted, all colliding and mixing in a cocktail that only heightened each sensation, a spiraling feedback loop that Ada felt completely lost within. Yes, she’d had great sex before, but this was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She’d always thought Hecate, with her deep and abiding love for the craft and all things magic, had been aptly named—but she’d never understood just how aptly until now. The woman was a primordial goddess, a forgotten thing from a darker time, chaos and desire and passion and power, unleashed and overflowing, overwhelming Ada, pulling out a side of her that had never been fully explored.

And, oh, how Ada welcomed the chance to explore. 

Her hand left Hecate’s hair to slip further down, feeling a measure of satisfaction at the way Hecate’s entire body stuttered when she found the slick heat between Hecate’s thighs.

“ _Ada_ ,” Hecate whispered harshly, a prayer and a warning. The warning was unnecessary—Ada wouldn’t intentionally do anything to stop the delicious friction of Hecate’s body against her own, each roll of her hips rebuilding the waves inside of Ada’s lungs.

The blonde merely hummed in reassurance, still unable to trust her own voice. Hecate rolled her hips harder, with more insistence—Ada felt a wave of dizziness at the dominance of the simple action. She felt an adjoining rush of desire, the sudden need to prove while Hecate might literally be the one on top, there were other ways to find equality.

Hecate was pushing her now, moving faster, and all Ada wanted was to bring this woman over the edge with her. Just as Hecate had done earlier, Ada slipped her now-drenched fingertips over Hecate’s mouth, feeling another flash of heat when the younger woman moaned as she realized what Ada was doing. Ada’s fingers dug into the back of Hecate’s neck, pulling her into a deep kiss, moaning her own approval at the taste that met her. Hecate’s mouth was pressing just as deeply as her hips, and Ada realized this was exactly what they meant when they said _well and truly fucked_.

She retaliated with her own mouth, teeth coming out to capture Hecate’s bottom lip as her right hand came up to grasp Hecate’s breast, earning a hiss of approval as Hecate arched into her hand, only pulling her mouth further away from Ada’s. When Hecate kissed her again, Ada tasted blood and realized she’d bitten too hard—a worry that melted almost instantly, under the hungry whine from Hecate, who plunged back into Ada’s mouth with frenetic delight.

Ada was so close, Hecate could feel it. She could feel the tension of her muscles, the way her entire body shook with the desire to shatter, the way her breath caught, chest causing friction against Hecate’s own. She pulled back slightly, allowing herself a better view as she urged her, “Come for me, Ada. Please. Just come for me.”

Ada kept her gaze, arched into her with small feminine noises that made Hecate want to fall apart herself, grinding harder against Hecate’s thigh, desperate hands pulling her in tighter. Hecate didn’t stop her whispering, didn’t stop encouraging her lover to unravel, didn’t stop the rocking of her hips as Ada came with a cry, shuddering and gasping beneath her, more beautiful than anything Hecate had ever seen. Of all the magic she’d felt in this world, of all the sacred and amazing thing she’d seen, nothing else compared.

Hecate slowly stopped the movements of her hips, but she kept herself firmly molded against Ada’s body, dipping her head to gently cover her cheek and neck with kisses, branching out to the line of her shoulder. Occasionally, she gave small hums, quietly grounding Ada back into her body and patiently waiting for her to catch her breath.

She was truly perplexed at the thought that no lover before her had looked at Ada and not wanted exactly this—had they all been mad? Had they not known what she was capable of? Had they ( _goddess forbid_ ) not cared?

Maybe, like Hecate, Ada had never cared enough about them, never truly loved the ones who came before. The thought sent a trill through her stomach, a little hopeful thing that she quickly muted. Ada was lightly running her hands up and down Hecate’s sides, gentle and reassuring, and Hecate found it easy to distract herself, with such a distracting vision beneath her. She smiled down at Ada, kissing the tip of her nose in a small token of affection.

Hecate delicately disengaged her leg from between Ada’s thighs, as gently as if Ada were made of spun glass. The simple care made Ada smile—as if they hadn’t just been going at it like drunken teenagers just moments ago.

Hecate noted her smile but didn’t comment, merely returned with a syrupy warm one of her own as she shifted over, laying down beside Ada. There was a slight tingling of warmth on Ada’s skin, and she realized that Hecate had placed a little warming spell over them. Darling Hecate, always taking care of her. The woman barely had any magical energy left, and she was expending it all, just to keep Ada comfortable.

Ada rolled onto her side, propping her left arm under her head to comfortably gaze at the shining-eyed woman beside her. Hecate reached out, lightly tracing a nonsensical pattern across Ada’s flushed chest ( _freckles_ , how she adored them).

“Well, I certainly hope that was worth the wait,” Hecate’s tone was teasing, but as usual, her expressive eyes betrayed her, the genuine worry at their corners filling Ada’s heart with a rush of love.

“You are,” Ada returned simply. She felt another frisson of joy at the way Hecate smiled at her, disbelieving and still desperate to believe. Her right hand mirrored Hecate’s gentle movements, reaching out to lightly trace the outline of her body, coming back to follow the curve of her cheek. “It was never really waiting, with you—you gave me so much, you still give me so much, every moment of every day. You were always exactly enough. You _are_ enough, Hecate. I would…this was—you have given things that no one else ever has, and I can’t even—but just having you in my life is enough. That is what I’ve always wanted, more than anything. To be here, with you. Wherever here is, however you wish to be.”

Hecate’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears as she leaned in to kiss Ada, a chaste kiss that pressed deeply into her. She tilted her forehead against Ada’s, lightly nuzzling their noses together. Ada understood that Hecate, who was never one for grand declarations, was agreeing with her sentiments. After a beat, Hecate spoke, “I want to be here with you, too. Exactly like this.”

Hecate was trying so hard to be open and brave, Ada knew. In this single night, she’d made herself more vulnerable than she had in years. Ada treasured this gift, sought to prove herself worthy of receiving it. This woman had spent a rather good portion of the evening ensuring that Ada got exactly what she wanted and needed, and it was her turn to repay the favor.

 _I don’t think I've ever felt so cherished._ It amused Ada to think that even in this, they were countermeasures, complements in all things. Hecate didn’t want earth-shattering expressions of lust and desire. She wanted the overwhelming feelings of safety and love. Ada could give her that. Ada could give her anything, if it was what she needed to understand just how much Ada loved her.

Ada pulled their bodies closer together, delighting in the warmth radiating from Hecate’s frame and that small little noise of approval that rumbled in younger woman’s chest. Ada’s right hand slipped further down, mapping out the curve of Hecate’s ass before gently curling Hecate’s left leg over her hip.

Hecate immediately understood her intent, “Oh, Ada, you don’t—I don’t—”

“I do and so do you,” Ada returned smoothly, silencing the protest with a light kiss. With a teasing arch of her brow, she added, “I have no intention of letting you do all the work in this relationship, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Her lover flushed. _Relationship_. The happy realization bubbled across Hecate’s skin like clouds of fireflies. Yes, this was a relationship. A new version, a deeper version, a version she’d barely allowed herself to even dream about. But it was here and it was real.

It was easier, telling herself that this was also something Ada needed—part of the building of the grand love story she deserved. Still, it was difficult, giving in to the indulgence of simply being touched by Ada. With all her past partners, no matter the dynamics, she’d been the one giving. It was less vulnerable. Less dangerous. More controlled.

But she could dismantle the armor, for Ada. She could let herself be loved, be given love. She closed her eyes, tamping back the desire to protest further, willing herself to simply accept what was given.

“Try not to look as if you’re awaiting your own execution,” Ada teased, and Hecate felt a flash of chagrin.

“I just—it’s not _easy_ , Ada,” she warred between frustration and fear. She ducked her head slightly, still not able to meet those blue eyes. She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks and hated herself for how easily she embarrassed herself, for how ridiculous she was being in this moment.

Ada’s lips were gently pressing against the space between her brows, humming in reassurance. “It’s alright, love. We have time, remember?”

Hecate merely nodded, taking a moment to simply feel Ada’s hands on her skin—light, demanding nothing, patient and reassuring. There had been times when she didn’t like her partners touching her at all afterwards, their hands feeling too foreign, unwelcome trespassers on her body, the one thing that had always been unequivocally hers. Ada’s touch felt good, and right. But then again, she’d put her very life in those hands, so many times over. She knew their intent, knew their trustworthiness, knew their safety.

Ada felt Hecate’s body relax against her again, mouth moving up to Ada’s with slow assurance. She kept her hand on Hecate’s hip, as innocent as a touch could be in their current situation. She tried to telepath her reassurance and her love through her kiss, tried not to push too hard or seem too eager.

“I do want this,” Hecate admitted softly as their broke apart for air. “And I will get better at this—at being open, Ada, I promise—”

Her eyes were still closed, her voice barely a whisper, like the kind of prayer one made to a deity in exchange for some favor. Ada felt her heart break, felt it burn with anger for anyone even marginally responsible for this part of Hecate, for the part that constantly felt the need to prove its worth, to promise to be better.

“You don’t have to get better,” Ada informed her quickly, gripping Hecate’s hip with insistence. “My darling, you have been so brave—you are so courageous, in so many things. Do you know exactly why we’re here?”

Now Hecate opened her eyes at the question, her curiosity greater than her chagrin. Ada could tell that she still didn’t quite believe the claims of bravery, but she was still listening, and that was enough, for now. Ada smiled as she continued, “We’re here, because _you_ reached for my hand, that morning in the garden.”

She didn’t have to clarify which morning that was—Hecate knew, had it etched upon her heart. It was the morning she’d turned down Max’s marriage proposal, turned down a life of comfortable certainty for the breath of a chance for something more with Ada. They’d sat side by side on the garden bench afterwards, as she quietly confessed to Ada that she had everything she’d ever wanted, right here. She’d held Ada’s hand, and they’d both known. A small door had been opened, slowly widening ever since.

“When will you ever learn?” Ada’s voice was so filled with adoration and warmth that Hecate felt a flush of affection in return. Ada kissed her gently again. “When will you ever realize just how wonderful you are?”

More than anything, Hecate wanted to believe her, wanted to be the bright shining thing that Ada saw, wanted all that love and adoration poured into her until she was overflowing. She kept her right arm folded against her chest, wrapping her left arm around Ada’s shoulder, bringing her closer, letting her fingers slip up to play with Ada’s hair as she melted into another deep kiss. She tightened her left leg around Ada’s hip, feeling sparks shoot up her thighs at how easily their bodies intertwined.

Ada could feel Hecate’s tension building, could feel the lazy way she occasionally rocked her hips forward, the way she breathed against Ada’s lips with smaller, shorter breaths. Ada slowly let her hand move over the ridge of Hecate’s hipbone, tracing down the curve of her abdomen, feeling a measure of satisfaction in the way the Hecate shifted further in, seeking out her touch. She couldn’t stop the triumphant smile that spread across her features at the way Hecate shivered as she finally slipped into the slick warmth between Hecate’s thighs. She started with slow circles around Hecate’s clit, each movement causing the woman’s hips to hitch in response, earning her small huffs from Hecate, whose mouth sought Ada’s with renewed desperation.

Ada shifted, pushing herself up to a sitting position with her left arm, never letting her right hand break its slow and steady rhythm. Hecate curled into herself slightly, as if shielding herself from Ada’s gaze—and then she did a wonderful, wonderful thing. She shifted as well, rolling onto her back, opening herself both physically and emotionally, her dark eyes meeting Ada’s gaze with the kind of quiet courage that had become, in Ada's eyes, a hallmark of her entire personality.

“Look at you,” Ada felt such an overwhelming amount of pride in that moment, she couldn’t stop herself from beaming down at the woman beneath her. Hecate was still trembling, and all she wanted was to shower the woman in adoration, to make her fears nothing more than a distant memory— _less_ than a memory, obliterated completely. She increased the pressure of her strokes, smiling again at the way Hecate’s chest tightened in response. Then she dipped forward, placing a tender kiss on Hecate’s ribcage, murmuring against her skin, “You’re doing so well, love.”

Hecate must have been feeling more comfortable, because she gave a slight huff of incredulity in response, the snark evident even in that small breath.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Ada glanced up, arching her eyebrows in amusement. Hecate gave a wry smirk in return, closing her eyes as Ada’s finger continued its rhythm, building the fire snaking through her hips. Ada’s teeth ached to test the softness of Hecate’s breasts, but she kept her kisses relatively tame, letting her tongue trace paths along the skin that still sheened with exertion from their previous endeavors. She thought of how Hecate’s words had driven her wild, how Hecate had been so fearless in giving Ada whatever she asked, whatever she wanted. Given Hecate’s hesitancy in even letting herself receive pleasure, the idea of Hecate outright telling her exactly what she wanted wasn’t a possibility at this point, Ada realized (but _soon_ , yes, eventually—Ada would patiently build this trust, would prove again and again that Hecate could be vulnerable in all things without fear, and one day, she would be able to say these things, without blush, without hesitation). So she’d have to use her own intuition.

Good thing she’d been taking notes, over the past few months. Yes, she’d become aware of the things that made Hecate flush, the things that made those dark eyes glitter like jewels, the things that definitely ticked Hecate’s little box of desires. Two distinct favorites had become apparent: commands and compliments.

Ada sat back slightly, giving herself a better view of the younger woman’s features. She kept her tone low and calm, a variation of her headmistress tone. “Hecate, open your eyes.”

Those dark orbs flew open, watching her with sudden curiosity. Ada smiled reassuringly. “Now, open your legs wider for me.”

She felt the delicious shift of Hecate’s thighs parting even more, enjoying the way the rest of Hecate’s body shifted with them.

“Good girl,” Ada intoned warmly, increasing the pace of her strokes. Her own reward was fluttering lashes and a small, half-strangled moan. Ada felt like she’d struck gold.

Hecate pressed her lips together, letting the wave of electricity ripple over her skin as Ada continued her movements. It was ridiculous, how something so trite as _good girl_ melted her bones entirely, but she couldn’t deny the effect Ada’s words had. She’d long been aware of her personal kinks, but this one wasn’t one she shared with her partners—it had seemed too infantile, too odd, too egotistical, too _needy_.

But she didn’t feel any hesitation or judgment from Ada—she reminded herself that there had been a flash of worry in Ada’s eyes, whenever she’d asked Hecate to devour her, to be more brazen. She’d opened herself up to Hecate, had been honest in her desires, and it had only made Hecate happy in return, to know that she was giving Ada exactly what she wanted, to know she was fulfilling Ada in every way. Still, she found herself clenching her eyes shut as she whispered, “Please—can you just—”

She couldn’t finish. She could feel Ada’s scrutiny, the intensity of her gaze much too bright, too focused. She gave a frustrated huff, her feelings of pleasure angrily muting into irritation.

Ada was leaning in again, lightly kissing along the line of her neck. “Just what?”

Hecate felt a small measure of relief. Ada wasn’t looking at her, not gazing directly into her face as she struggled to express herself. With a shaking breath, she pushed herself forward, “Please, keep talking, keep…”

“Keep telling you what a good girl you are?” Ada guessed, her voice so low that it was practically a purr. The knowing in her tone slipped over Hecate’s skin like a wave of heat, reigniting the fire between her hips and tightening her lungs.

Hecate made a small noise in response, and Ada knew she’d hit the nail on the head. That was all the confirmation she needed—she dove into this new form of seduction with complete commitment, kissing and sucking her way up that delicious neck as she whispered, “So good. You are so very, very good. Now, be a good girl and tell me exactly what you need.”

“Fingers,” Hecate whispered, her breath hitching. “I need—you, inside me.”

Ada complied immediately, giving a soft moan of her own at the feeling of finally slipping into Hecate. Her thumb resumed stroking Hecate’s clit, her two fingers easily matching the pace. Hecate whined and shifted further down the mattress, further into Ada’s hand.

“Good girl,” Ada cooed, placing another kiss at the corner of Hecate’s jaw. “Another?”

“Please,” Hecate could barely find the oxygen to utter that simple, single word. Ada slipped a third finger inside of her and she felt her entire body light up at the feeling of fullness.

Now Ada was watching her again, face lined with pride and adoration. “There we go. See how easy that was? Anything you want is yours, just ask.”

Hecate was grasping at her, pulling her down into a kiss that ended with Hecate moaning into Ada’s mouth, a deep, long sound that pulled from the caverns of her hips. She was rocking against Ada’s hand now, and Ada sped up to match the building tension.

Ada broke from the kiss, continuing her praise of the woman panting beneath her, uttering half-coherent phrases about being good and feeling good and how she was Ada’s girl, her very own and very good girl. The lack of clarity didn’t matter because Hecate only half-heard, her body being overtaken by pounding blood and zipping lightning. She pulled Ada further down, burying her face in the soft crook of Ada’s neck as she shuddered, her core clenching around Ada’s fingers with satisfying force.

Ada felt as if she were in the eye of a hurricane—the room seemed deathly quiet, except for the soft, wet sounds of Ada’s hand moving inside of Hecate, the sharp breaths and small strangled whimpers as Hecate’s body rocked with pleasure, the sound of Ada’s own heavy breathing. Finally Hecate fell back with a deep gasp, further arching into Ada’s hand as she rippled through the aftershocks of her orgasm, flushed and shining and so utterly perfect that Ada felt blinded by the sight (but oh, if that was the last image she ever saw in this life, what a brilliant last image to have). Ada slowed her hand’s movements, keeping her fingers still inside while moving her thumb away from Hecate’s now-oversensitive clit, waiting until Hecate was fully still and sated before removing her hand.

Hecate watched her with lazy eyes, a small smile dancing at the corners of her mouth as she watched Ada suck her own fingers, humming in approval for what she found there. Hecate remained spread and stretched out, perfectly open in every way, and Ada’s heart clenched at the trust in her simple action.

Ada reached out to gently stroke Hecate’s hip, “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” Hecate beamed, the same open smile she’d given Ada earlier that night, as they lay in front of the fire. After a beat, she quietly added, “I love how easily you say it.”

“Well, I’ve had a good decade of repeating the words over and over again in my head,” Ada joked. This earned her another open grin from the woman still splayed across her bed—Hecate even gave a small chuckle at the quip, a rare treat indeed. Despite the joy radiating from every pore, her exhaustion was still evident.

“Come along,” Ada slipped to the edge of the bed, holding out her hand to help Hecate up as well. “Now you’ve truly got to get some rest.”

Hecate complied without protest, a sure sign of her fatigue. She let Ada pull her to her feet, giving a secret smile at the little cat flats that lay abandoned on the floor, at the stockings that still encased Ada’s legs. Ada pulled back the covers and Hecate easily slid back into the bed—Ada had to admit, the sight of watching Hecate’s bare ass slip between her sheets was a beautiful thing indeed. With a flutter of her fingers, she performed a showering spell for both of them, tummy flipping again at the little sound of delighted surprise that Hecate made in response. She hadn’t thought of how sensitive Hecate would still be, but she also couldn’t deny the delight in thinking she’d given her lover one last little spark.

Hecate was rolling back to face Ada, waiting for the blonde to join her with a sleepy smile. The stockings were magicked away and Ada joined her under the covers, pulling their bodies back together with comforting ease.

Hecate suddenly felt the full force of her fatigue, her eyelids becoming leaden. She sat up slightly, giving a wave of her fingers to twist her hair into a long, loose braid—it was still thoroughly tangled, but she only had so much energy, magical or otherwise, and the rest could wait til morning. She snuggled back into Ada, relishing the warmth of the body next to her, the soft scent of Ada’s hair and the steady sound of her breathing. Ada's arm was around her, giving her the shelter she'd so desperately needed when she had first arrived at Ada’s doorstep earlier in the evening, before she had any idea how this night would end. Their bodies smelled the same, light and clean thanks to Ada's showering spell, and the sameness only enforced Hecate's sensation of truly being joined, of being completely wrapped up in this woman and her love.

Ada’s hand was lazily wandering up her spine, tracing the outline of her shoulder blade and looping in wide circles up to her neck again.

Hecate hummed warmly, ducking her head under Ada’s chin, “That feels nice.”

“Not keeping you awake?” Ada’s voice was lined with gentle concern. Hecate made a small noise to indicate that she didn’t mind, and Ada quietly confessed, “I have some catching up to do, in the morning.”

“Hmm?”

“You got to… _explore_ a lot more of me than I did you.” The imbalance hadn’t mattered in the heat of the moment, but Ada still longed to learn every inch of Hecate Hardbroom's body.

Hecate gave a small hum of understanding, and with the theatrical over-exaggeration reserved only for the very drunk and the very tired, she rolled onto her back, arm flopping over the other side of the bed. “Explore away.”

Ada chuckled at her dramatics, realizing it was a jest. Still, her heart warmed with the gift she'd just been given—Hecate's unbridled trust. The younger woman’s eyes were still closed, and Ada knew she would be completely asleep soon.

“Plenty of time for that tomorrow,” Ada assured her warmly. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward to sample the underside of Hecate’s left breast, humming at the softness that greeted her. Hecate made a little burble of sleepy delight, more feline than Ada had ever hear before, arching into her touch.

“Just don’t use your teeth, or we really won’t rest at all tonight,” Hecate warned, her tone wry with amusement. Truly, she could feel sleep slipping rapidly through her body—not amount of teasing from Ada, however delicious, would be able to keep her awake. She welcomed the sensation, knowing she'd rest deeply in Ada’s arms just as she had the night before. The thought of this feeling, this scene, becoming a familiar habit made her chest fill with warmth.

Ada’s hand was tracing up and down the curves of her side with loving reverence, seeking only to feel and to soothe, not to titillate. Hecate tumbled into a wave of exhaustion, feeling adored beyond compare.

“Your glasses,” she said suddenly, trying to open her eyes, which heavily blinked shut again. “They’re on your desk.”

Ada easily transferred them to her bedside table with a small smile, bestowing a kiss on Hecate’s shoulder. The younger woman rolled into the kiss, nuzzling into Ada again.

“Ctsrrrwfff Kirk,” Hecate mumbled into Ada’s collarbone, tone drenched with sleepiness.

“What?”

“Cats,” she shifted back slightly, making more of an effort to enunciate. “They’re with Circe.”

“Okay,” Ada gave an amused hum as she lightly kissed Hecate’s forehead. She didn’t mention that she found Pendle to be perfectly capable of taking care of himself. “Go to sleep now, love.”

Hecate mumbled something else, but Ada didn’t even try to decipher it. Apparently it was important, because Hecate shifted back again, lips still brushing against Ada's neck as she breathed, “Ada?”

“Yes, love.”

“I love you. Like the moon loves the sun. Like the sea loves the moon. Like…oh, everything.” She sighed on the last word, and Ada wondered if she were talking in her sleep at this point. “Like all the big things, wrapped up in…a…thing…”

Ada tried not to laugh at her sheer adorableness, pulling her closer instead. “I know, love. And I love you, too. Just as much, just the same.”

Hecate gave a single, long hum of contentment. Ada actually felt the moment she went to sleep, her entire body releasing every last ounce of tension as she fully settled against Ada.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Ada was certain that nothing would rouse Hecate. Then she gingerly disengaged from the woman’s grasp, slowly slipping out of bed to wrap herself in a dressing gown and sit before her vanity.

She looked exactly the same—how was that possible, after her world had been shattered and reset in the most wonderful of ways? Yes, she had more of a glow about her, but that was to be expected. She gently drew back the lapels of her robe, her smile deepening at the little marks she found. Ah, there was her proof, her difference.

Hecate rolled over in her sleep, the curve of her pale shoulder rising like the moon from underneath the blankets, a perfect contrast to the frizzy halo of jet black hair on the pillow. Ada’s finger fluttered, opening the curtains to let in more moonlight, illuminating the figure in her bed. Goddess, a simple sight that still encompassed her wildest dreams, in living, breathing reality. Ada almost wanted to pinch herself, but she still feared she might be dreaming—and if she was, she certainly didn’t want to wake.

With another happy sigh, she held her hands over the smooth top of her vanity. A carved wooden box appeared, a cube nearly half a foot in width and height. She gently opened it, casting another surreptitious glance in the mirror, ensuring Hecate was still asleep.

She always put a great deal of thought into her Yuletide gifts for Hecate, but this year had demanded greater consideration. Something with deeper meaning, but not too overwhelming. Something Hecate would truly cherish and love. Something that would take her breath away. The Samhain ritual had given her an idea, and after Hecate had presented her with her own Yuletide gift just two nights earlier, Ada’s heart had sung with the surety that she’d chosen the perfect gift.

It just needed a few finishing touches. Calling her glasses into the palm of her hand, Ada began to focus on her work. The loss of so-desperately-needed sleep would be worth it, once she watched Hecate open the gift tomorrow morning.

She felt the familiar sense of joyful warmth that always accompanied this time of year, but she knew this delight was deeper. She was crafting a gift for her lover, her dearest friend and her deepest wish, the quiet darkness between the stars of all her waking thoughts. Afterwards she would happily slip beneath the covers, to sleep beside the woman who'd gently claimed her heart so long ago that Ada couldn’t call it hers any longer—it was Hecate’s, as surely as anything, and had been for such a long and lonely time.

It would remain so, for even longer. But the loneliness was gone. Ada smiled at the thought. That feeling of sheer lightness filled every fiber of her being as she continued her delicate task, finally satisfied with the results and sending the box into vanishment until tomorrow morning.

Then she returned to bed, returned to Hecate, returned to her sleeping little heart.


	3. Chapter 3

There really wasn’t a better way to wake up, Hecate decided warmly, smiling as Ada’s mouth left a trail of kisses across her torso, her hand warm and weighted on Hecate’s thigh. They'd stirred awake together, exchanging a few gentle kisses and some quiet, happy good mornings as they had simply enjoyed this wonderful new sensation of waking up in each other's arms. The kisses had eventually grown deeper and Hecate had gently rolled onto her back, opening her arms for Ada to finally explore all the things she'd opined missing the night before—an invitation the blonde gladly accepted, mouth and hands covering Hecate with comforting weight.  
  
Hecate purred like a cat, raising her arms overhead to stretch languidly, arching her back, pressing her skin deeper against Ada’s lips as her legs slid open invitingly. Ada hummed in approval at the warm wetness awaiting her, and Hecate gave a small chuckle ( _really,_ had she expected any other reaction, after last night, did she have any doubts left of what she did to Hecate, what she could do to her body?).

Last night had been at turns frantic and worshipful, a hurricane of twenty years’ worth of frustrations and realizations and anticipation, a deluge they couldn’t have controlled if they tried. But this morning, in the still-dark hours before dawn, the flood waters had receded and the passion was replaced with playfulness. Relief was now pure joy, delight for this moment’s arrival, the beginning of something new. Ada’s teeth were nipping the underside of her breast, and Hecate’s hand was in her hair, nails lightly dragging through those tangled locks, encouraging her, teasing her into action.

Even Ada’s fingers inside of her were moving at a slow and easygoing pace, more intent on journey than destination. Her thumb made light, wide circles around Hecate’s clit, letting the warmth slowly build and dissipate throughout the caverns of her hips, climbing up to her lungs, adding fuel to the flame of her heart. Every movement, every kiss, was lazy and full of promise. _It's alright, we have time, we can take as much time as we want, we have time, we have time, we have each other and we have time._

“Careful,” she whispered, and she couldn’t help but smile when Ada stopped to glance up at her, eyebrows quirked in confused concern. She let her index finger trace the line of Ada’s nose, her mouth still twisting in amusement. “I’m a creature of habit, Miss Cackle. Pretty soon, I’ll expect to wake up exactly like this, every day.”

Now Ada’s confusion melted like snow in sunshine, her smile shining just as brilliantly. “I think I can live with such expectation, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate’s hands were cupping her face, pulling her into a kiss to seal the deal. Ada knew she was serious—later, perhaps during their morning walk through the garden, Hecate’s impressive mind would begin whirring and clicking puzzle pieces into place, figuring out how to make it work, this new facet of their relationship which dictated (yes, _dictated_ , absolutely demanded) that they share a bed, for every night and every morning after this. Ada didn’t care how it came to pass, so long as it did, but she knew that Hecate, her darling heroine, would want to shield Ada’s reputation, to preserve the school’s sense of decorum. She would let Hecate give her that, because that was important to Hecate, and it was important to Hecate that she be able to give this to Ada.

But that was a discussion for later. The current conversation was more nonverbal and certainly less about problem solving. Ada was laying on her side, and Hecate rolled to meet her, hooking her right leg over Ada’s hip and still giving her hand access. Hecate’s hands came out to play as well, nails trilling down Ada’s body with gentle teasing, sometimes stopping to let her palms fill themselves with Ada’s ass or hips or breasts, never staying anywhere for long and giving Ada the sensation of being completely covered.

The kisses were light, nipping and playful, too. Ada was slipping further downward, mouth leaving a winding trail from Hecate’s mouth to her chest, taking in all the sights and tastes that she hadn’t gotten to fully experience the night before. Hecate let her hands stay in Ada’s thoroughly mussed blonde locks, trying to give her as much free reign as possible without distraction. She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but soon she was flat on her back again, with Ada straddling her hips, sitting back and smiling down at her with an endearingly smug expression.

Hecate was looking up at her with such a sweet smile of adoration, her face seeming younger and more vulnerable without her usual makeup, awash in the grey light spilling from the window, her loose braid half-undone, slipping across the sheets like a river of night. Her quiet unbridled happiness filled Ada’s lungs with a flood of energetic gratitude in turn, making her want to shout their joy to the tops of the castle spires.

Ada covered Hecate’s breasts with her hands, gently kneading the pale flesh and earning herself a lovely reaction from the woman beneath her. Hecate’s expressive hands were warm and weighted as they paced up and down the sides of Ada’s thighs, encouraging her to continue. She arched into Ada’s hands, and Ada acted upon her immediate impulse to lean down and bite that lovely neck on display. She trailed her way back to Hecate’s ear, whispering, “I have something for you.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Hecate returned wryly, lifting her hips slightly to make her point—the warm wetness of Ada’s center was firmly on the tops of her thighs, and the small movement earned her a gasp from Ada, who sat back slightly. Hecate reached up, fingertips lightly feathering through those blonde locks, lazily tracing a route down Ada's body, which was practically glowing in the dim light, still flecked with little marks from last night. Every moment was a new favorite image of Ada, and Hecate wasn't sure if she could ever decide which one was the most beautiful, the most perfect. It was like trying to find a favorite star in the night sky.

Ada laughed, “No, a gift. Your Yuletide present.”

“Now?” Hecate was slightly incredulous, though the curiosity was evident in her tone. But Ada was already answering her question nonverbally, shifting off of Hecate to sit up against the headboard, an action which she mimicked, sitting up to look at Ada with inquisitive eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t wait any longer,” Ada admitted with a breathless grin of excitement. It was the smile that always melted Hecate, the one that had made her endure years of overblown holiday celebrations and loud noises and too much frivolity, because it had all elicited that open joy from Ada. The fact that she was currently smiling like that while completely naked certainly didn't hurt, either.

Hecate presented her open hands with a theatrical air, “Well then, Miss Cackle, let’s not waste a single second more.”

Ada magicked the wooden box into her own hands before placing it in Hecate’s. The younger witch was already frowning in curious confusion, examining the markings on the box as if they held some great clue. Ada wanted to tease her for it, but she refrained—this was part of Hecate’s expression of love, she knew. Hecate would inspect every inch of her gift, would ensure that there wasn’t a single detail left unappreciated or unseen.

“It’s the story of Magdi,” Hecate breathed as the realization hit her. It was part of their magical mythology—the tale of Magdi the Magician, who’d used her staff to call down the stars, which fell upon a great battle, ensuring victory and protecting her lover. Despite many believing the tale to be absolute fiction, for some reason it had resurfaced as an argument for banning witches from using staffs.

“It is,” Ada’s tone was filled with gentle delight at the fact that Hecate had made the connection. The story of Magdi had been a perfect fit—the staff, the powerful ability, the devotion of a woman in love. Ada knew an expert craftswitch who had exquisitely captured the story across the cube, using the four sides to create four panes of the story, the top carved with a depiction of stars shooting across the sky.

Hecate gingerly opened the latch, pulling back the lid to reveal a dark orb nestled in rich purple velvet. Her thin fingers delicately pulled it into her palm, eyebrows twitching in curiosity. Ada reached out with her magic, giving the orb a slight spark of power, which caused it to glow and rise out of Hecate’s palm, floating lightly above it.

It was like a snow globe, but with a starry sky trapped inside. Hecate had never seen anything like it.

“Tap the glass,” Ada whispered, not wanting to break the spell of Hecate’s wonderment. In the darkness of her bedroom, the glow lit up Hecate’s face like a blue-flamed candle, showing every detail of her soft amazement, her curious delight. Ada’s heart was singing and jumping like a puppy, so unbelievably happy just to watch her lover’s reaction.

Hecate did as instructed, and a slightly larger holographic orb enveloped the first glass one, the stars coming out and floating like little dust motes in a ray of sunshine. Some points were slightly larger, brighter and pulsing to gain attention. Instinctively, Hecate touched one.

The room was filled with a night sky, stars covering the ceiling, the walls, the bedspread, their skin.

“A star map,” Hecate suddenly understood. The breathy wonder in her tone was enough to turn Ada’s knees to jelly (it was a rather fortunate thing that she wasn’t standing at the moment).

Ada hummed in confirmation, giving a slight flick of her wrist to close the window curtains behind them, deepening the darkness and making the stars glisten more brightly. Hecate noticed the orb now had a date scrolled across its surface, glowing in Ada’s handwriting. She scrunched her face in light confusion as she tried to solve the riddle. Goodness, it was twenty years ago…

“It’s a map of the night sky, the day we first met,” Ada informed her. Hecate took a small breath, finally understanding the depth of her gift. She tapped the orb again, and the projection shrank back to smaller form. She selected another pulsing bright spot, and a new set of stars exploded across the room. She looked at the date, seeing it was just yesterday.

“Our first kiss,” Ada's voice was quiet with reverence. She cleared her throat slightly, “And also the first time we…”

“Made love?” Hecate looked up, her dark gaze even more piercing in the low light. Her voice was tender, etched with a warm and quiet joy that made Ada’s heart trill in response. She shifted slightly closer to Ada, so that their arms were touching, from shoulder to elbow, before turning back to the orb with a slight blush.

She selected another point of light, seeing the date—her birthday, this year. She didn’t need Ada to explain its significance. She moved on. Again, the date upon the orb confounded her.

“It’s an estimate,” Ada admitted. “But it’s—it’s very close to the night you won your chess game against Miss Moonbower. The night I realized that my feelings for you weren’t simply platonic admiration.”

Hecate was smiling shyly now. This time, Ada selected the next point. She knew the date wouldn’t mean anything to Hecate (not yet), so she quietly explained, “This was the day I knew for sure. That it was love, not just some fleeting attraction, and it was…beyond my ability to forget, beyond my desire to cure.”

Hecate was watching her, the unspoken question radiating from her frame. Ada ducked her head slightly as she continued, “You—ah, it’s the simplest, silliest thing. Do you remember Renelda Vinesbane?”

Hecate nodded. Of course, she remembered almost every student she’d taught. Renelda was currently an administrative assistant to the witch overseeing the Magic Council’s legacy program—she hadn’t truly applied herself until after she’d left Cackle’s, but Hecate was still proud of her accomplishments and their contributions in furthering Ada’s reputation as a formidable educator whose establishment produced the next generation’s best and brightest witches.

“You had just thoroughly rounded on her about pulling some ridiculous prank—a bit harsher than necessary, I thought,” Ada smiled slightly at the memory. “I saw the exchange from the hallway, and I was going to wait until she left to speak to you about your demeanor. But as she walked away, I saw you cast a spell—you retied her shoelace, so that she wouldn’t trip. And…I don’t know, that simple little thing just…I felt my heart _physically_ react. I just knew then that I loved you, truly loved you, and I was helpless to change it. Because I loved you for your kindness, your little acts of compassion when you thought no one was watching—and that would never change, because  _you_ would never change. So…I would never be able to stop loving you.”

Hecate’s throat was so tight that she could barely breathe. She’d listened to this story, this moment she’d practically forgotten but had been seared in Ada’s memory as a sign of her goodness, a secret Ada had carried for so many years now, offering it now like a delicate flower, a token of love and affection—and all she could think was that this love was truly a thing of equality, born of years of mutual adoration and respect. The great thing she wanted to build, the dream she had of creating this life, this indestructible thing, with Ada, had already begun, long before they even knew.

“Oh, Ada,” was all she could say.

And that was all she continued to say, as she gently set the orb aside and showed the woman just how much she adored her gift, kissing her way across the constellations projected on Ada’s skin, silently promising herself that she’d fill the entire orb with dancing bits of light, firsts and lasts and thousands of memories in-between.

* * *

 

One of the fascinating facets of this new territory was the realization that there was still so much to learn about each other. For example, Ada quickly learned that her dutiful and diligent deputy was thoroughly _unhelpful_ when it came to getting dressed for her day—those nimble fingers seemed unable to grasp the concept of leaving buttons fastened and skirts where they were meant to be. Eventually, Hecate Hardbroom was relegated to sitting on the edge of the bed, grinning with an unrepentant mischief that did nothing to help Ada’s resolve to truly leave her chambers and get on with the business of running an academy.

And although the rising sun warned that it would soon be time to return to her own chambers and tend to Circe, Hecate took her time, indulging in little mundane rituals that were made absolutely magical by Ada’s presence. She watched Ada sit before her vanity, arranging her hair and donning her jewelry. She eyed the new dress which Ada had hung on the door of her wardrobe, evidently her outfit for the evening festivities. The girls had lit the Yule log the night before, part of the remaining staff’s attempts to keep a degree of normalcy despite the chaotic events of Circe’s kidnapping and their headmistress’ subsequent departure. As was the tradition, each night in the twelve-night holiday would build to a grander scale, until the final night, when there would be a ball and the opening of the gates, which would be flooded with the rest of the students who hadn’t stayed over break, along with their parents and a few parents of the girls who had stayed behind. Tonight’s festivities included games and what promised to be a rather rousing round of white elephant, if past years were any indication.

“What do you think?” Ada noticed her gaze, watching her through the mirror’s reflection. She was adjusting her brooch, but the habit was so ingrained that she didn’t really need to watch what she was doing—allowing her to focus on Hecate, whose attempts to undress Ada had included her own lack of dressing. She was currently wrapped in one of Ada’s silk gowns, the pink and mint green designs a novelty against a body that Ada had only seen draped in the darkest of colors.

Hecate hummed in approval, lightly lifting her brows. “Of course, I can’t possibly form a full opinion until I see how it looks on you.”

“Fair enough,” Ada smiled lightly. Still, she couldn’t help but tease, “I chose it, specifically based on your reaction to the dress I wore for the school’s Samhain feast.”

Hecate’s eyelids fluttered at the memory. Ada feigned innocence, needling, “The purple one? Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Hecate informed her in a low tone. Her eyes were locked onto the garment with a renewed sense of appreciation. Ada could see the wheels of Hecate’s imagination turning, and she felt a small thrill in anticipation of what possibilities the woman could conjure up, before it was time to slip out of that dress at the end of the night.

“You really should be getting ready, too,” Ada informed her regretfully. Hecate’s hair was out of its braid again, loose and lovely, slightly re-tangled from Ada’s hands during one of Hecate’s more unhelpful moments of dress assistance. She looked so peaceful, so perfectly in-place atop Ada’s bed—it seemed an absolute crime to have her anywhere else.

But they still had lives that continued outside this room, filled to the brim with responsibilities. Hecate knew that, too, because she merely took a deep breath before launching herself onto her feet, fingers snapping to dress herself in last night’s outfit. Her hair spun up into its customary bun, somehow less severe without the dramatic effects of her makeup. She moved closer to Ada, tips of her index fingers rolling against the pads of her thumbs, her shoulders set at a taut angle.

Ada frowned slightly at the sudden shift of Hecate’s energy, the sudden tension in every line of her lithe frame. Hecate took another step forward, ducking her head as she reached for Ada, then reconsidered. Her hesitancy was both confusing and heartbreaking, because Ada couldn’t imagine what she’d done to make her lover doubt how welcome her touch was, couldn’t stand to see such uncertainty in that beautiful face.

However, Hecate overcame her internal struggle, gently placing her hands on Ada’s shoulders and leaning down to bestow a small kiss atop that blonde head. Eager to reassure her, Ada took Hecate’s hands in her own, placing a kiss on each one. She felt the way they flexed in response, felt the tension that still ran through Hecate’s frame.

“There is,” Hecate’s voice was low, searching, uncertain. “Well, I’m not—I have no shame in what we’ve done, Ada—in what I very much hope we’ll _continue_ to do. But…how, exactly, are we to act…in public?”

Ada met her deputy’s gaze through the mirror. “Ah. Yes. I suppose I hadn’t really considered that.”

Hecate made no attempt to speak up again, as if simply raising the question had exhausted all her words. Instead she let her hands stay captured in Ada’s, watching her reflection cautiously and awaiting her verdict with poker-faced stoicism.

Here was the imbalance, Ada realized. The place where their personal and professional lives overlapped. The place where Hecate was bound, by her role and her sense of duty, to defer to Ada’s decision. She tried to read the younger witch’s body language, tried to anticipate which outcome Hecate hoped for.

But she didn’t have to guess, not really. She knew this woman, more deeply than any other. She even understood what had caused her sudden onset of apprehension—they were both back in their daily costumes, back in their roles as headmistress and deputy, even if only visually. With a trembling smile, Ada spoke. “I haven’t any qualms, either, Hecate. And while I’m so happy that I could shout it from the rooftops, I don’t think it’s necessary—or even conducive to a serene learning environment—to particularly announce any shift in our relationship.”

The tautness of Hecate’s shoulders melted away, and Ada knew she’d made the right call—not just for the school, which certainly didn’t need a whirlwind of salacious gossip and conjecture about exactly what the headmistress and deputy head got up to after hours, but for Hecate, who guarded her privacy with utmost fervor.

“Besides,” Ada squeezed Hecate’s hands in reassurance again, her thumbs lightly tracing over soft skin. “I rather like the idea of having something that’s just ours, for once. We’ve given quite a lot to this institution, to our careers and all the duties they entail. We should have something that is simply ours.”

“Ours,” Hecate echoed, her low tone saturated with warm adoration. Ada watched in the mirror, transfixed by the softness in Hecate’s face as she looked down at Ada, one hand coming up to lightly finger through her blonde bob. She felt almost like a voyeur, as if perhaps Hecate had forgotten that Ada could actually see her, see how unabashedly she looked at her, see just how overwhelming her delight was, at the thought of having something that was simply theirs. But then, Hecate’s dark eyes flicked upwards again, pinning onto Ada’s gaze through the reflection. “Yes, I think I rather like the idea, too.”

Ada thought she should probably tell Hecate that under no circumstances could she look at her like that in public, or else Ada would not be responsible for whatever she did next, spectators be damned. But she couldn’t quite find the willpower.

Hecate must have been experiencing a similar prickling of desire, because she ducked her head, stepping back and pulling her hands away from Ada. Her voice was low and quick as she confessed, “If I don’t leave now, we’ll certainly be locked away in this room until teatime.”

Ada made a small sound of commiseration. She took the timepiece that rested on her vanity, lightly floating it over to Hecate, who merely smiled in quiet thanks.

“I shall see you at breakfast, then?” Hecate’s tone was precise, infused with an airiness that she certainly didn’t feel. It didn’t seem right, slipping back into that role. Not yet, not now.

Ada merely smiled in agreement. Hecate raised her hand to transfer away, then stopped herself.

“And Ada?” Her voice was impossibly soft, but her eyes were dancing with mischief. “I haven’t forgotten the promise about next time.”

She was gone before Ada could question her. The blonde sat there, perplexed as her mind replayed the (rather enjoyable) events of the previous evening.

Suddenly, Ada bolted upright. _Of course_. When Hecate had seen Ada’s lingerie, she’d been upset about not dressing up for Ada in return. Ada had teased her that she could simply do it next time—and Hecate had promised as much.

Oh. Oh, goodness. This truly was shaping up to be a proper Yuletide—a new gift every night. Her mind spun with ways to make the game last all twelve nights. She glanced back to her dress for the evening, smiling at the thought of just what it would do to those dark eyes she loved so well, once they saw her in it.

With a happy sigh, she turned back to look at her reflection one last time. Now there was something comforting in the realization that she looked exactly the same. Exactly like the woman who’d won the heart of Hecate Hardbroom.

* * *

 

Dimity Drill stood outside HB’s door, wringing her hands in hesitation. She wanted to check on Circe, but she feared disturbing the Hardbroom sisters’ much-needed rest. She took a step back, deciding that she would come back later, after breakfast.

Suddenly, HB appeared beside her—both witches jumped, startled by the other’s presence.

HB stuttered, “What on earth—”

“Why aren’t you in your room?” Dimity spoke at the same time. She felt another jolt of shock at the sudden flush of HB’s face, like a child caught sneaking sweets.

It took Dimity about ten milliseconds to take in HB’s lack of makeup and her clothes from last night. The first tickle of intuition rippled across her brain.

“I was awake and didn’t want to disturb her,” Hecate informed her. It wasn’t a lie in the least…just a slightly untrue implication that Hecate’s departure had been earlier this morning and not nearly twelve hours before. She moved towards the door, lowering the protective spell surrounding it.

Dimity couldn’t help but notice the easy sway of HB’s hips when she walked. The oddly languid set of her usually-rigid frame. She moved like a woman who’d been well and truly—

She gave a loud, dramatic gasp, her eyes wide with understanding. “Oh. My. Giddy. Bats. You had carnal relations—”

“ _Death_ , Miss Drill,” HB whirled around, hissing every syllable, eyes glittering with ferocity. “Certain and excruciating death is all that awaits you, if you ever so much as _think_ such a thing again.”

Despite Dimity’s instinctive step back, her mouth still quirked into a sly grin. “Oh, HB, we’re friends now—you said as much yourself, in the woods. And friends don’t keep secrets.”

HB closed her eyes briefly, and Dimity was certain the woman was actually weighing her options on how easily she would be able to get away with murder, at this point.

“Up my departmental budget by twenty percent and I’ll never mention it again.”

HB merely scowled—however, she didn’t outright refuse Dimity, which the younger woman took as a hopeful sign. Finally, she countered, “You never mention it again, and you get the reassurance of knowing you won’t experience a rather unfortunate flying accident.”

Dimity was fairly certain that was an empty threat. Fairly.

“C’mon, HB. Ten percent.”

“No.”

“Five?”

“No.”

“You’re absolute rubbish at deal-making, woman.”

Hecate pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem off the headache that inevitably followed any interaction with this woman’s incessant needling. Dimity must have sensed her frustration, because she reached out to lightly cuff Hecate’s shoulder.

“I’ll come off it, if you answer one thing.” The flying instructor’s face was lined with absolute sincerity.

“What?” Hecate was immediately wary.

However, Dimity didn’t offer a joke or a jibe. Instead, she merely cocked her head to one side, smiling softly, “Ya happy, HB?”

Hecate couldn’t stop the smile from blooming across her own face. “Yes. We are.”

Dimity gave a little squeak of delight at the word _we_ , ending with a victorious fist pump. “Good. Glad to hear it. See you both at breakfast, then. Give Circe my regards. Oh, and I’ve talked to Pippa—she’s agreed that we shouldn’t involve the Great Wizard after all.”

Hecate felt a jolt of surprise at the last bit. “You—you did? And she did?”

Dimity nodded curtly. “She’s not an easy nut to crack, that Miss Pentangle, but I finally got her to see the logic behind keeping it under wraps.”

“But…why?” Hecate gave a small shake of her head. “You barely know Circe—and you and I are—”

“Friends, aren’t we?” Dimity tried to keep the hopeful lilt from her tone, but failed spectacularly. However, she was never one to shy from the hard stuff, so she soldiered on. “Look, HB, I won’t be president of the Hecate Hardbroom fan club any time soon—I mean, I’m pretty sure that position’s taken, in more ways than one—”

HB growled in warning, so Dimity quickly continued, “But I can’t deny that you’ve kept us safe, here at Cackle’s. And I know that regardless of how you feel about me personally, if the tables had been turned, you wouldn’t hesitate to do exactly the same for me. So…I guess there wasn’t really any other option, I suppose. Not one that was right, anyways.”

Hecate could have been knocked over by a feather at that point.

Dimity leaned in slightly, arching an eyebrow, “Now, about that twenty percent increase in budget—”

“There was a lovely moment, and then you ruined it, Drill,” Hecate informed her, opening the door to her chambers with a theatrical flourish. “ _Comme d’habitude_.”

“Didn’t Ada study French back in—”

The door slammed shut before Dimity could finish her question. She raised her voice a little higher, “You’re _welcome_ , pal!”

She turned and made her way down the hall with a smile. So what if HB wouldn’t approve a budget increase? She was about to win a nice little sum from her bet with Algie and Gwen. That would be more than enough of a consolation prize.

* * *

 

Circe was already awake when Hecate entered, propped up in bed with Morgana, Pendle, and her wild hare curled around her.

“Well met, dear sister,” she was beaming, looking so much more like her old self after a good night’s rest. “And where have you been?”

Hecate merely smiled, recalling her Yuletide gift into her open hands, feeling another measure of delighted satisfaction at having full control of her magic once again. She delicately set the box on her bookshelf, her jet-black nail lightly tracing over the etching of Magdi, standing atop the mountain, staff extended to the sky.

_I’ve been to heaven. I’ve been home. I’ve been in love. Wrapped from head to toe in it, with Ada. I’ve been cherished. I’ve been seen. I’ve been known, truly known, for the first time. I’ve been happy. I’ve been married, body and soul. I’ve been well and truly past the point of no return._

_And I’ll stay there, now and forever. With her, always._

 


End file.
